A 'Familiar of Zero' and 'Liberal Crime Squad' crossover: Triple Zero
by Tamer Who Leapt Through Time
Summary: Louise summons a familiar, but it has no body, instead being able to possess and share those of hers and other's. The familiar provides her with a new way to view the world and it enables her to cast proper magic, beyond her mere explosions. A 357 year old leftist terrorist can fulfil all her wishes, but has one demand in return. "Change Halkeginia as I see fit". Doubles in length.
1. Explosion 0 - Nothing Happened

Disclaimer: Zero no Tsukaima belongs to a dead guy. LCS is a Bay12 videogame. Credits to all, I own only the plot. Furthermore, excuse the political language. It's part of LCS the game; I'm not trying to write that Che Guevara fanfic.

Read, **follow _(NOT JUST FAVOURITE)_** and review. **_It keeps me going._**

**Triple Zero**

_Explosion Zero - Nothing Happened_

* * *

Fate certainly had a sense of humour when it came to Zero. He had had almost seized all of it, that opportunity to bring the fight to the CCS when fate, that ever spiteful slapstick comedian, decided to crack arguably the most Conservative joke in all of Liberalism's history. Such a joke would not be laughed at by him and his fellow compatriots. The joke was not crafted for the likes of him; it was meant to entertain those who lived in the towers of steel penetrating the skies of New York, those Towers of Babel that, despite all their glory and magnificence, were but only shadows concealing the damaged recesses of American society. They were scabs upon necrotic wounds, hiding the most malignant of rots. It was in this sun-forsaken shade that the scarred and stressed heart of America laid. It was almost like something out of a political cartoon. How remarkably predictive were those old etchings from an age before The President's reign! The filthy air, the horrible genetic defects, the unprocessed radioactive waste spilling down the gutters of Manhattan, all the signs of this Second Coming were here. Under this shadow of oppression, one could see the Firemen burn contraband literature, those whose predecessors once stared at Lady Liberty be shackled and the cries of disheveled housewives and victims of the CEOs' exercise of the right of the first night. Zero had failed America. It was only just, he felt that America would choose to fail him.

The guardian that was distance would only preserve him for so long. From his downtown apartment, Zero saw New York City in flames. Those were the infernos of Conservatism roasting alive entire neighbourhoods of crackheads, transients, prostitutes, gangbangers, hippies, college dropouts, teenagers, textile slaves, child workers, liberal judges, doctors, nurses, programmers and all the other hardworking citizens of America. Despite all the compatriots who were Americans, his enemies were Americans as well. These Americans, seething in their unjust hatred, were not the Americans of old, of Boston and Lexington; those Americans of Richmond, who once, in defeat, fanatically protected the flag of their enemies as a ruse, were now burning it as they burnt Liberalism's safehouses. In the industrial zone, the commercial district and the campus of Barnard, the anguished screeches of immolating compatriots, interspersed with the Death Squad's mechanical hollering of "The South will Rise again!" could be heard.

It seemed like it had come out of a political cartoon; the fact was, it was reality. This reality would've been particularly terrifying to Zero, were it not for the fact that he was not the first Zero and that he had known only this

It had started in 2009. The President had been elected. The environment was the first casualty of his presidency. 50 years later, the first Zero died. The President, still alive and strong from all those biological modifications made possible through the kicking of puppies and stabbing of rabbits, was alive, only President in name. In this age, one could see that elections were all but shows and that the only guaranteed human right was death. Then, the second Zero died and was replaced by another. Slavery was reintroduced in all but name and the irradiated Mississippi and Ohio rivers existed as testaments to The President's lifelong lust for power at any cost. After yet another surge of struggles, the third successor Zero had died. By this time, one could expect a massacre of protestors and civil activists (crimethinkers, as the Ministry of Love and Firemen called them) to be a mundane daily occurrence that happened as frequently as the twice-daily brushing of teeth (a practice long forgotten and forbidden, having been decided by the Supreme Court to be unconstitutionally Liberal). It was then that he, the fourth Zero, climbed to claim the laurels.

At first it had seemed that Liberalism stood a chance. Under him, there had been resounding victories in favour of the cause. For the first time in 200 years, one could hear the ancient words of Martin Luther King in the ambiance of the darkness. One could hear the dream, the dream of a world wherein a person was not judged on the colour of skin, a world with justice for all, a world with justice for great and small, a world where unnecessary swords would be beaten into ploughshares.

That was not to be. 491 years of hard activism was to be in vain.

In the most unoriginal response possible, the CCS was formed. It is obvious what they did.

"Open the door! Surrender and die!" Zero could hear pounding on his apartment's entrance. The characteristic distortion caused by the voice-changers of the Death Squad was obvious to anyone with a good ear. The procedure that would follow after they had broken down into his apartment would be to find him, bring him to the ground and shoot him in the head. It was that brutally simple. He was an enemy of the state. As an enemy of the state, he was an enemy of the people and thus he deserved to die. Granted, he did not fear death, for those who had become part of an Idea could not die, but even then, from the Idea's viewpoint, it would have lost a valuable tool. He was an Elite Liberal. He had orchestrated his fair share of bank heists, assassinations, attacks on the Death Squads, roared the truth to the masses… It was be a senseless loss for him to have to fall to a Death Squad's raid. Having become part of the Idea, the only death he would ever receive would be from a physical cause; the virtue of his cause had provided him with a startling aura of longevity that was probably unrivaled by any other living being save for the older members of the Idea (who now were burning). He had lived for 357 years. The rebellion had started in 2009, with Zeroes coincidentally dying every 50 years three times. He had been the longest lived Zero yet. And despite his longevity, one could mistake him for a 30 year old. The effects of continuous action on the longevity of a Liberal could not be underestimated. If one were to browse through the collection of his Wanted posters, they would be able to see the shift in style of their depictions of him quite obviously.

"We said open the door! Surrender and die!" The Death Squads were called the Death Squads for a reason. They called upon suspects to surrender **and** die. They were not the NYPD of old who would occasionally beat you up for being the wrong skin colour and then send you to a stacked courtroom. They were the most brutal of The President's "law" enforcement agencies. They would capture you, force you down and shoot you in the head. Sighing in resignation, Zero walked to his suitcase and drew the handle with a snap, positioning it in front of him. He had put what had mattered to him inside of it. The Book, a .45 laser pistol, a compact solar panel, a laptop, a manufacturing manual, a hammer and some clothing was packed inside of it. Zero chucked as he thought of how incongruous such a sight of high technology sprawled alongside humble textiles and a book of ages long gone would've been to both the people of the 21st Century (the ones that had damned his) and the people of the 25th (whom had he tried to save).

This was his punishment for the all the people he could not save. This was the punishment for his ignorance before he had seen the light. This was his punishment for not being able to protect the Third Zero. All the sins he had committed, either through action or inaction, were finally about to grasp him from behind from a past he could no longer run from. The hands of the Grim Reaper were coming out of the floor to pull him down to Hell (which he doubted existed).

The Third Zero, his blue-haired gate and key to the world he now lived in.

One, his chief hacker, who had recently shown America the true nature of The President and was now burning because of it.

Two, Three, Four, Five, Six and Seven, his Guardians and who had been named those curious numerical appellations since eternity, their appearances hiding away all signs of their age.

2159, the year he had climbed high enough to see America for what it once was and for what it had now become.

He had lost it all, and now, he would pay.

With a _bam! _The Death Squad had forced itself through the door of his apartment. Their demands of him to open the door were almost redundant.

_Please._ Zero could hear a voice which emanated from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. He remained calm. Hallucinations are expected when one is close or knows they are close to their death.

"Show yourself!" Zero did not hear that for that same voice overpowered their orders. _My slave who lives somewhere in this universe!_

Slavery was a daily occurrence in this universe. One would only need to go to the CEO's Castle to see the mingling, tired masses of slaves, some of whom were naked concubines. Then again, death and hallucinations were also as certain.

Zero could hear the jackbooted footsteps of the Death Squad coming nearer to his bedroom. Planning to die by his own hand, he opened the glass door to the balcony, dragging it open. The noise of the Death Squad's unmistakable high-pitched sirens could be head from below, but he could also hear that voice from earlier. _O sacred, beautiful and strong familiar!_

Zero was anything was sacred. He knew enough of the State Religion to complete his infiltrations with "Praise be to Reagan!" but he was not a believer. He had shifted the most Conservative of individuals through the application of logic and rhetoric more often than through the loin. His age, though of little impact on his longevity, sapped away all his strength. Strength, he would require to beat back the Death Squads and he had none of it, making useless his ancient knowledge of martial arts. He tightened the grip on his suitcase and climbed onto the flat ledge of the balcony. A cylinder of steel would've minimised the courage needed to jump, but the choice of suicide was always preferable to the indignity of a Death Squad "culling" as they termed it.

The Death Squad had penetrated his bedroom door, only metres away from his balcony. Characteristically, they harshly droned "Surrender and die". This time, one could very well see that they wished their request would be completed, for their X-15 Military Laser Rifles were aimed at him. Despite all the clatter of this police state, however, Zero could only hear that voice.

_Here I desire and plead from my heart!_

It was the mention of 'heart' that gripped Zero. Hallucinations of death would never mention Heart. The Wisdom of resigning oneself to one's fate, one might hallucinate, but nowhere in the Book did it mention one regaining Heart. Zero had an exponentially growing suspicion that he was not hallucinating!

_Answer to my guidance!_

It was with this imperative that Zero saw the Death Squads readying their fingers on the trigger.

Zero chose. If he were to die, it would not be by the hands of those who had murdered so many of his compatriots, but rather through sweet gravity. Zero was falling down from the balcony, hands holding onto the handle of the suitcase. Just when he was about to meet terra firma (which was for some reason, emitting a green glow, probably that of littered radioactive waste, onto the sides of the building), however, he noticed that his head did not smash into cement and crumple into a mess.

Rather he that he was _one_ with the Idea. It was a sensation hard to capture. He could see nothing, yet he saw everything. He saw Earth, the Third Zero, naked before him in all her Liberal glory, the burning industrial zone, CEOs exercise the right of the first night, hopes, dreams, futures, he saw everything. That everything surely had a link to the Idea.

Alas, it was only for a fleeting moment, as Zero noticed himself becoming more, yet less material.

* * *

Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière was well known in the Tristain Academy of Magic. She was well known in that she was infamous for casting only explosions where others were only known for casting, ordinary working spells. She might've been the best at the theory and the study of magic, but it was all too well known that she was a complete and utter failure for every attempt at a practical. Her marks and grades for these practical tests, were on a consistent basis, zero. It was for this that she was known as Louis the Zero. Zero spells, zero magic and some would go further and risk the chance of a misdirected explosion by jeering her on her zero endowments.

Thus, it was quite unexpected when her first attempt at summoning a familiar was bringing on a pandemonium that surpassed the tremors that Guiche's Verdandi had brought on (although by any standard it was small). The summoning of her familiar and the natural phenomena that accompanied it were not congruous with her reputation as one of the worst mages in Tristain, if not Halkeginia. A picturesque day, otherwise sunny and pleasant, was being ruined by many an odd happening; not only was the entire Earth shaking, but furthermore, the Void Tower collapsed. The vicious rains poured as if heralding some great happening, backed by tremendously loud strikes of lightning. It was as if the End Time had come. Fire (or shooting stars, though at the current moment, no-one, not even a bald man by the name of Jean Colbert could distinguish for having to weather the storm) rained from the skies. Yet more lightning struck and more rain poured down and for more time the Earth shook. It was as if the Gods themselves had damned humanity.

Then as, suddenly as the turmoil struck, it disappeared, and the Void Tower had returned to its undamaged state beforehand.

All would've been normal, if it were not for the fact that Louise was stuck in the same place, pupils dilated, wand still in hand, unable to move, with thick miasma spiraling out of it. Tabitha and Colbert grasped their staves, waiting for whatever was going to happen, while the others looked on, simply awestruck. Even Kirche was having second thoughts of calling Louise a zero henceforth.

There was also the added fact that the other students' familiars were crying in an uncontrollable panic that resembled a disturbed zoo, which would've been funny were it not for the all the ill omens.

* * *

Profile #0

Name: Codename is **Zero**; Birth name long lost.

Profession: Political Activist

Age: 357 years, born 2143.

Gender/Sex: Gender is meaningless to such an immortal. As with sex, male.

Hair and eye colour: Black and brown

Blood Type: O

Earth Juice: Over 1000 and increasing and because of that, the most notable liberal criminal in American history.

Halkeginian Juice: 0

Heart: Infinite

Intelligence: 512

Wisdom: 750 due to high casualties under leadership and age

Health: Infinite (disembodied)

Agility: 1

Strength: 1

Charisma:9001

The Fourth Zero. Most successful leader of the Liberal Crime Squad so far. Has been continuing a 491 year revolution against The President's rule. Has led since the age of 16 after the death of the Third Zero. Extremely persuasive. Agents sent to apprehend him have been known to have fallen under the influence of his words, some being driven into suicide by their own cognitive dissonance. Writing possesses a distinct, sharp flair that is rarely mistaken for another person's. Has excellent leadership ability. Ridiculously intelligent. Excellent painter, musician, tailor, beggar and merchant and can communicate with animals. Extremely inscrutable, being able to pass through automated identification systems through elaborate disguise. Middle-age appearance belies extreme lack of athleticism and core strength. All this can be explained by his age and thus experience. Lacks the ability to give up.

Earth crime stats: 3 centuries worth of millions of racketeering charges. Indirectly responsible for thousands of occurrences of terrorism, treason, murder, bank robberies and 'harmful speech'.

Halkeginian crime stats: None yet.

* * *

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	2. Explosion 1 - One Body

Disclaimer: Zero no Tsukaima belongs to a dead guy. LCS is a Bay12 videogame. Credits to all, I own only the plot. Furthermore, excuse the political language. It's part of LCS the game; I'm not trying to write that Che Guevara fanfic.

Read, **follow _(NOT JUST FAVOURITE)_** and review. **_It keeps me going._** Plus, I double chapter word length every chapter.

**Triple Zero**

_Explosion One - One Body_

* * *

To be one with the Idea was an experience that Zero never thought would be likely. The ability to have such knowledge over such a wide frame in space-time could only have been imagined of as part of science fiction. The rude fact remained however, that he was in a state of what Confederates would've called Limbo, the crossroad between Hell and Heaven. Zero had never been one for religion and faith; the Rebellion had burnt down their fair share of Reaganite churches. Truth be told however, he held a certain respect for that book known as the Bible. That book, like so many other books, had been banned in the great purges of the 22nd Century. Apparently, it had been too Liberal, a surprising little fact since it had been used in the 21st Century by Conservatism to push their course.

Placing all other thoughts aside, Zero began to place attention on the thought that he was becoming more material. He had no frame of reference to know **where** he was becoming more material. He just knew that he was becoming more material. It was an occurrence hard to properly capture all the nuances. One minute he was part of an Idea, an ethereal consciousness. The next, he noticed was _fading_ back into reality for a lack of a better term. He noticed himself becoming solid, real and physical once again. There was one catch.

This place was not New York.

It was a darkness, emphasis on the article 'a', for he did not know where he was. It was a pitch black darkness that engulfed everything and this darkness was much more stifling than the one in your wardrobe your mother told you had a boogeyman in it. It was so dark that Zero could swear that this was what unconsciousness would've been like if you noticed it while sleeping. Honestly, the darkness was outright ridiculous. In any case, he was expecting a white void to be surrounding him, not a darkness. In science fiction movies from the 20th to the 25th Century, if the characters found themselves transplanted from their ordinary world into some other dimension, that was what usually happened. They would be standing in a never-ending sea of white, not pitch blackness. Then again, from a scientific perspective, this made sense, for darkness was the natural condition of the universe.

Zero uttered a profanity. Honestly, as much as he held some excitement for being a physical being once against, he was highly irritated at having to feel buried alive. It was then that he noticed that he was again experiencing that shift in corporeality…

* * *

Louise the Zero was beyond help. For all the concentration that Colbert was trying to pierce through the miasmic barrier, not even a single hole had cracked. By this stage, an opaque, black hemisphere had consumed Louise, with an ever-present cracking of sparks surrounding it. Placing more willpower into his attempt to break through the result of the botched summoning, Colbert found himself flung to the wall of the courtyard. If one were to pay close attention to the body of students, ignoring the pandemonium of their familiars (the students found themselves frozen by a fear that did not allow them to do anything except roll into balls due to fear, hold each other, cry or look on mesmerised), one would be able to hear the ubiquitous comment about Louise that was a typical reaction to whenever she had attempted to cast magic. In this situation however, the comments were not one of ridicule, but rather ones of outright fear.

"Guiche, are we going to die?" Montmorency was yelping in fear in Guiche's arms. To be honest, Guiche did not know the answer. However, he did feel compelled to reassure her.

"I don't know, Montmorency, but I will protect you." If it were not for the black miasmic hemisphere in the middle of the courtyard, mixed with frightened and absolutely terrified and frantic familiars flying all over the place (even Sylphid), it would've been an otherwise normal day. That, and also if weren't for the recent insane weather and romantic assurances of protection.

Kirche was frozen in her steps. She found herself unable to move at the sight of the black hemisphere. Fear and awe combined together to paralyse her into a living statue. This was disturbing given that her elemental affinity was fire; fire was the element of movement and in much of recorded history, paralysis and petrification spells had shown a thoroughly demonstrated tendency to fail against proficient fire mages. Why then, was she still? Why was it then, that the hemisphere of darkness that Louise had called upon seemed to stare and bore right into her soul?

Tabitha held her staff with both hands in dismay. Glancing to her side to see Professor Colbert just manage to stand up from the blow to the wall, she stood focused and stared at the hemisphere. The rest of the student body would've either called her insane or foolhardy, but then again, they were paralysed in fear; they were more likely to die than someone who was prepared to fight.

On the far corner of the courtyard, it would've been possible to see Malicorne attempting to dig his way out of the courtyard with his bare hands. His posterior was jutting out from the hole he had just clawed out. One would've had the impression with his wriggling rear end that he desired to at least die on a full stomach.

* * *

Louise had done it. She had gone and messed up the familiar summoning. The Springtime Familiar Summoning ritual could be argued by many to be the most important milestone of any mage's life. It was unspoken common knowledge that even the weakest and most incompetent of mages were able to cast "Summon Servant" with some degree of success. Therefore, when she took into consideration the fact that she was in a thick, black, smothering emptiness that was the result of her casting attempt, Louise could establish that she had failed. She was a Zero. She was a nobody. The tree that was Vallière had a withered twig. She was that withered twig. Her classmates seemed vindicated in their jeering.

Louise could not tell whether she was standing or sitting. She sighed. The darkness was stifling. The darkness bored and stared into the very core of herexistence. She wondered if the darkness was the God's last piece of evidence to her that she was not a mage. After all, all her spells (save the one for turning on and off the lights) had resulted in failure. Perhaps the explosions were divine annoyance at her constant pestering of the Pentagon and this darkness was a manifestation of the final straw on the camel's back. Regardless, she was now trapped in what could only be called a limbo.

Tears were beginning to leak out of her eyes. Fate had a cruel and twisted sense of humour. She was born a noble to the House of Vallière, but her magic could not prove it. She had studied hard through and through, but her application of magic gave negligible results. She was a noble, yet her grace and talent were non-existent. Resignation to marriage or monastery would've therefore been her only paths, however she was physically lacking.

She was a zero. Null. Nothing. Void. Emptiness, failure, incompetence embodied. At this realisation, which for her entire life she had tried to avoid, Louise burst out crying.

"Damn it! Damn it all! I'm nothing. It's all meaningless now!" If one could see through the darkness, there would've been the sight of Louise kneeling down, both palms spread on the floor, bringing on a flood of tears which formed isolated blobs of brine in the formless nothingness.

"It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness. I just discovered this myself."

It was with this, that all of a sudden, an orb of light sprung from the darkness. Intrigued by the voice, Louise pushed herself off the floor and readied herself up. She tightened her right hand's grip, but noticed that she did not have a wand. As her eyes trailed from hand to shoulder, she realised she was naked. There was no sign of her blouse or cape, and as her eyes skimmed across her chest, she noticed that there was only that always-present flatness.

"Where am I?! Who are you?! What have you done to me?!" The thought of her being teleported into some lecher's cellar crossed her mind. She suppressed the fear and disgust as she waited for answers from the blinding light in the darkness.

"I could just as justifiably ask the same question of you." The monotone and serious voice came from near the light and as Louise paid closer attention, she stepped on a mindboggling realisation: The voice came from a person with the same strawberry blond hair as her, with the same bosom and face as her (albeit noticeably having furrowed eyebrows with a frown). Louise came to the conclusion that she had crossed paths with a shape-shifter.

"Just answer me! Why are you trying to steal my appearance?!" Louise yelled as she flung her arms down. She was utterly confused. She wanted an answer.

_Mentioning appearances, it appears that I have turned female._ Zero felt the lack of the corresponding organs. That had been the case since he (or she) had rematerialised after that earlier 'fading away'. Upon plucking a strand of his (or her) hair, he (or she) noticed that it was not the usual black; it was a dirty, reddish blond.

"The most accurate answer I can give you is that this seems to be the afterlife." Zero plainly explained in French. It was an ancient language, banned since The President had enacted his immigration reforms. Since it was banned, it was worth mastering despite its relative uselessness and Zero had done exactly that. Zero placed aside the strangeness of having someone else speaking it to him conversationally and waited for a response.

Louise experienced a chill up her spine; had the Gods so rejected her that they decided to kill her for trying to summon a familiar? "Dead?"

"Yes, it seems like we are both dead and when the fact that the soul does not have clothing of itself is considered, I think it is a very valid possibility." Louise felt an empty emotion. Her failure as a mage had killed her? The Gods had an evil sense of humour.

"However, if we are both dead, why are we both conscious? Furthermore, why is Limbo, the road to Heaven or Valhalla, the Afterlife, congested with two identical individuals? Why did I find myself able to conjure a star to light this darkness? Conversely, it is just as likely that we have met due to fate, in an empty world that is this void." Louise was somewhat fulfilled by the answer, but it only expanded the hunger of her curiosity.

"Then who are you and what have you done to me?" Louise continued to press on. She had to find answers. If she was not dead, she could return back home.

The likeness approached her. The sight of your spitting image walking naked towards you with a lantern was somewhat disturbing, and Louise felt her legs shake a little.

"I am Zero. I am supposed to be dead and while I was minding my own apparent afterlife, you barged in." The answer provided enough clarification without giving too much away.

Her name was Zero? The possibility that this was a divine prank became all the more real. To Louise, this was most certainly divine mockery. The Heavens had cursed her to be magically barren and now she was doomed to spend an eternity with a doppelganger, bearing her nickname no less.

Sniffling visibly, Louise cried and rubbed her eyes, somehow assuming a foetal position in the darkness without a ground, before Zero. "Why me? Why me?" Tears retraced the saline trail that had leaked from her eyes previously. Between ever increasingly frequent throbs, interspersed were those miserable cries of "Why me?". Zero had seen many a gruesome scene in his (or her) life. Dismembered bodies, exploding bodies, mentally retarded mutants mating were pretty much expected in the line of duty. A crying girl, however, stoked his (or her) brotherly (or sisterly) instincts.

"Often, in life, unfair and unjust things happen to us." At this, Louise's sniffling began to subside, as she rubbed her eyes and brought her attention to the curious pull of her doppelganger's voice.

"These injustices and sufferings, we often blame on ourselves." At this, Louise began to nod slightly.

Zero continued. "However, blaming these injustices and sufferings on ourselves produces negligible results. It does not ensure that the injustice has disappeared." Again, Louise nodded. Zero's words had a remarkable amount of applicability to her. She had been ruminating about her lack of magical aptitude for the last few days. Perhaps it was because of her relative lack of confidence in herself that the familiar summoning ritual had failed? After all, to cast a spell, you needed to know that you could cast that spell.

"That brings me to my main point. You wish to return home, but you can't. Therefore, you find yourself crying in the darkness which perpetually engulfs this realm. You wish for the power to return home. Your one desire now is to be able to just go back to living your normal, everyday life, whatever it consists of. You would do that with much gratitude, throwing away all your past regrets and misgivings and never letting them torment you again. You would be happy to just be yourself and not care so much about whatever flaws you had. You would choose to be true to yourself and glad to be what you are, with no further coveting and regret. Am I correct in this assumption?" Three centuries of recruitment had allowed Zero to pierce into and electrify the soul of anyone he spoke to.

Louise was astounded by the accuracy of Zero's observation. Her anxiety and wistful sadness dissipated, beginning to be replaced with a shocked curiosity on her face that pointedly accused Zero of something. Stepping back in a mixture a caution and terror, she queried, with pointing finger, "How do you know so much about me? How come do you even look like me?! Answer me!" The chords of unadulterated fear was evident in her voice.

Zero found the situation somewhat amusing. "Remember when you had earlier accused me of a being a shape-shifting appearance thief? Have you not also considered the possibility that I am an _alter ego_, another you? Is it impossible that you have found the aid and service you so desperately called for and arrived at this realm through your search?" Zero had a feeling the voices he had heard before falling of the balcony had some connection to the strawberry blonde before him.

Louise seriously considered the notion. The word _"alter ego"_ cleanly rolled off her mental tongue. It was an Old Romalian word. She had never heard of it before, but somehow the nuances and meanings of it instantly came cleanly through her mind. An _alter ego_ was that other you, the better you, who could do things you never thought to be possible. When considered against the context of the purpose of a familiar, it began to make sense. A familiar was bound to protect and serve its master, with abilities corresponding to the affinities of their master. Therefore, Louise somehow managed to conclude that her familiar was her _alter ego_. Perhaps, the Gods had answered her pleas to no long have 'Zero' as an insulting nickname. Perhaps her familiar was herself?

"Please tell me more." Louise extended out her hand, fear and nervousness disappearing almost within an instant. Aside from the openness, another thing also attracted Zero's attention; she was actually using manners now. It could've been that she finally realised that insulting the _alter ego_ would've been tantamount to insulting herself. Regardless, it seemed everything was going to plan. _'Convince them and recruit them'_.

"There is no need to show such gratitude. You are yourself. To insult me would be to insult you. To thank yourself would be to thank me; I already know your gratitude from within you." Zero beckoned Louise.

"If there is a will, then there is a way." These words coincided with the sudden appearance of a road below them that seemed extremely wide to Louise; if she put herself head to toe alongside the width of it, it would be around 5 of her heights. Glancing back, she noticed that there had materialised incredibly high buildings that, with all their monotonous grey colouring, seemed to scrape the sky. It was an alien sight. There were no towers like that in Halkeginia. Not even Lutetian palaces rivalled that height.

"Come on, let's go and have some tea." Turning around, Louise noticed that Zero was in a long, grey coat that looked quite thick, which would have been appropriate for the sudden cold that was now penetrating her. Paying attention to herself, she noticed that she was in her old skirt and blouse, with her cape and pentagram brooch missing. The cold bit into her. She could literally say that she way now jealous of herself. Furthermore, what appeared to be the drawn drawbridge of her family's manor was in front of her, some tens of paces paces away. Louise obliged Zero's request and followed Zero somewhat reluctantly, curiosity still stuck to her heart.

"Excuse me, other me, but where are we?" The variety of road she walked on, incredibly smooth, was never seen by her before. The roads in the capital, while considerably clean and well-maintained, were never this immaculate in their fineness, for they were made out of cobble. The mismatch between the roads behind her and those of the estate was painstakingly egregious.

"The same place as before, what appears to be the afterlife, though if you had to prescribe what you're seeing now a name, I would call it a crossroads." The same cryptic answer came to Louise from Zero. Was the hidden part of her own self really as cryptic and hidden from common understanding as the Other Her's answers? Riddles were unnecessary to yourself. Why then did she puzzle herself with such esoteric answers?

"We have arrived." Zero, with his/her ever consistently monotone voice informed Louise. Somehow, they had been on the middle of the road a minute ago and now they had arrived at the gate of the manor. If it wasn't the first time something inexplicable happened in his realm, Louise would've broke down. Now she was merely observing. Assuming she was not dead, was her mind really that imaginative? Was she outright insane? What kind of road would make you be at one place at one moment and be at another place at another? She expected that once tea had finished in this mind-boggling realm, she would have questions to ask, not only on the nature of the realm, but why her senses were becoming somewhat clairvoyant. Why did she know that she was going to ask these questions?

And so it was with the announcement of their arrival that Louise followed Zero through the doors of the Vallière estate (or what appeared to be it). What was before her, however, was not foyer of the estate she had been so used to. It was a small room, a parlour. This was not the estate of the Vallières, yet it still felt as if there was home. Perhaps this realm of darkness was getting to her?

"Please sit." Louise obliged and seated herself on a black chaise longue close to the curtains near the centre of the parlour, in front of which there was a low table, as Zero went to another room, presumably to order tea. She scanned the room with her eyes and noticed that the layout was quite unlike anything she had ever seen in her entire life. To her left, she could see a slate of dark glass, framed in a sleek material which she could not discern. Below the slate, she could see that there were other boxes, which shared the same non-descript nature of the slate. To her right, she could see what appeared to be clock, yet there was no pendulum and the Romalian numerals that should've been there were instead replaced by what seemed to be drastically altered Elven numerals. She could see what appeared to be a bulb of glass above hair, with thin wire inside of it. Placed intermittently throughout the walls of the room were patterned perforations, with a button above them.

"Where is this place…? No, rather, what place does this room… share the appearance of?" Even in madness, there was a method and she wanted to know that method. The copy of her estate had alerted her to the that this realm was not 'real.'

Zero having prepared the tea, placed it on the table and sat on the opposing chaise longue, placing his (or her) hand on his (or her) chin. What would you call the Big Apple to someone who seemed to be displaced?

"We are in a house in a large city. Looking at your puzzled face, I assumed you have never seen the likes of what you have seen." Zero needed to receive as much information as possible without needlessly giving out too much. Honesty was one of the best policies, but it became better when infused with discretion. Zero sipped some tea and waited for a response.

"True, but I want to know the city in particular." This would probably break the alter-ego act. Louise sipped her tea as if mirroring Zero. She wanted that answer and she would receive it.

Zero sighed. "New York. We are in a representation of New York."

"New York?" As Zero had suspected, the strawberry blonde was not familiar with the term.

"Novum Eboracum, if that is more familiar." Surely, if the scenario he was living in was like some sort of messed up alternate-universe science fiction movie (the likeliness of which was very high considering the existence of an afterlife, which runs contrary to the mutually tied nature of mind and body), then the yet-named strawberry blonde would understand something?

"Novum …Eboracum? I've heard of Eboracum in Albion, but I've never heard of a new Eboracum…" Louise responded curiously, her attention absorbed by Zero's query.

This was the final switch for Zero. The possibility was very now very high that this girl either came from the past (though that would beg the question on why she was wearing such a short skirt and a blouse) or from some alternate universe. After all, nuclear radiation created mutants with superhuman powers (when previously, people thought it would just create retards) and Death Squads patrols were somehow omniscient when it came to your whereabouts. If those things could be facts, then the chances of meeting _Homo sapiens_ from alternate universes or planets was as equally high.

"It appears that we do not have a commonality in homes." Sipping his (or her) tea, Zero continued, "I think we come from different places" 'World' would've probably have confused the poor interloper. "Please tell me what your name is, and where you come from." Honesty is a good policy. Despite the potential for discretion to enhance it, there was also the possibility for discretion to become omission.

Louise hesitated. What if the doppelganger in front of her sought to know her name in order to steal her identity? It already seemed to know about the undertone of insecurity that filled her life; the scenario of it needing only her name to kill and assume her appearance was all too possible.

"I… can't really tell you."

"Judging from your recent adverse reactions whenever you looked straight at me, I believe that you fear that I am trying to steal your identity?" Zero hit the chord, with Louise flinching. The fluctuations of her emotions from fear to comfort and back to fear again were not exactly the most welcoming series of feelings to experience. Before Louise could respond, Zero added, "If you fear such a possibility, tell me what brought you here. You're welcome to drink the tea while explaining."

* * *

"You come from a land called Tristain, located on the continent of Halkeginia. You attend an academy for magic in Tristain."

"Yes."

"You were trying to summon a familiar and then black miasma spiralled out of your wand and engulfed you. You were hoping that the summoning would prove to your peers that magical ability flowed in your veins."

"Yes." Tears started to begin dripping as Louise sniffled.

"And now, you are stuck here, with no way of returning home due to your failed summoning?"

"Yes as well."

"This confirms my suspicions. Tell me, what do know of green portals that appear out of nowhere and swallow you?" Zero was hoping that it wouldn't lead to what he feared.

* * *

"Green portals are gateways for magical familiars?"

"Yes."

A certain tightness gripped Zero's chest. He himself had no way to return home, nor did this girl. Perhaps it was time to unveil to her the truth of his presence.

"Young lady, I believe I have been summoned to be your 'familiar'. I also believe that my becoming your familiar might get both of us out of here." At this, Louise's head stopped drooping downwards.

"Will you be my familiar? I want to go back home…"

"Only if you answer my questions: What does it entail, what's your name and where in bloody Hell do you come from?"

* * *

"Collect trinkets. Aid with domestic chores. Be your spy. Sleep on straw. Act as your double when you don't feel like doing schoolwork. You seriously expect me to do that for you, Louise? All the while receiving minimal freedom to myself to do as I see fit?" Honestly, Zero was dismayed. 13 billion years had passed since the Big Bang and Louise's world was still a feudal backwoods. What was it like 500 years ago? Honestly it was like some fairy tale like 'Cinderella' had gone to life and screwed itself over with an unpalatable mix of 'Twilight', 'Harry Potter' and 'MLP: Friendship is Magic'. It was some sick shit from the ancient bowels of long gone image boards.

"Yes, it is a familiar's duty to obey its master." That word was annoying and so was the tone. Zero was not one of the Founding Fathers from seven hundred years ago, but dammit, was that word annoying. A Liberal was no-one's bitch.

"Nothing substantial in return except another day of employment?"

"You are a familiar. I am a mage. It has always been that way. No familiar overtakes or harms its mage." The self-justified tone she was using was annoying! Employment for nearly all the days a week and no free time to carry out his Liberal Agenda! The choice seemed to suck.

"Well, mage, since both our agreement seems to be required to get out of this nowhere-land, I think you're quite seriously going to have understand the implications of my very existence in order to have a partnership!" With that, Zero reached out his (or her arm) and plunged it in Louise's forehead. She would see soon enough, where he (or she) stood.

Louise, quite simply, was not prepared for the sight Zero had for her.

* * *

Blaring blasphemy! Murderous malevolence! If knowing the thoughts of others could kill, Louise would be a million times dead! Louise did not mind the anti-noble rhetoric – it made all the more sense when how Halkeginia's system devalued her worth was taken into account. What was disturbing to her and what caused to her to retreat from the chaise longue to the window in fear, rather, was the _means_ with which Zero had tried to achieve his goals. Pointing a sharply accusing finger at Zero all the while trembling all throughout, Louise condemned Zero.

"You're a monster!" The screech was as loud as the Firemen's sirens. "You're evil!" Louise then retched and created a puddle that strongly smelt of jasmine tea.

Zero snorted. No more than three Conservatives had defected from him with the same phrase. "Evil is the aggressor, not the defender who counterattacks."

"I'll never contract with you! NEVER!" The terror was evident in Louise's voice. "NEVER, NEVER IN BRIMIR'S NAME EVER!"

"Then how are you going to return home? You might be stuck here forever." What a difficult case. There were people who far more difficult to sway, but in all honesty, Louise felt like rank 2.

"I don't care! I'm not going to let you hurt Tristain! I'll stay here for their good!" Poor idealistic little girl. What other nonsense would she spew?

"You should know by now that it's their fault that you're worthless to them. They deserve to pay for that."

"I won't let you hurt them! I won't let you hurt them! Never! Never! Never!" Facepalm.

* * *

Perhaps it was a day. Maybe it was even a year. It certainly felt very long. Condemn. Cry. Eat. Sleep. Condemn. Cry. Eat. Sleep. Persuading that CEO of the genetic modification company was far less stressful. In the end, however, Zero managed.

With no more tears to shed, Louise simply lay in the corner, sniffling, eyes red and empty from self-pity. It was just a failure to communicate; Zero had only killed much people as she (she was beginning to accept the fact that the chance of turning back into a male was low) had, because there was no other way. Sighing, Zero approached Louise. Poor girl needed a life lesson in determination. She needed a rapport.

And so it was with this acknowledgement that a wand appeared in Zero's hands. She did not _know_ natively what to do. However, the Idea led her to the procedure.

"My name is Zero." Louise stared up. Was she so bad at summoning that _she _was about to be made someone's familiar from a summoning spell?

"…Idea that is Just and that which protects the Weak..." That was analogous to the 'Pentagon' chant. Louis looked onwards to her doppelganger.

"Indoctrinate this Civilian and let them join the Liberal Cause!" Which this, Louise could feel a warm fuzzy feeling begin to engulf her. The weight that had bored itself into her mind for 16 years began to fade away. She felt as if her heart was swelling. And then, the darkness that was this world was replaced by a light that pierced everything.

* * *

Colbert was more focused than ever before on the hemisphere before him. Whatever had taken away Vallière, it had to be stopped. It had to be stopped from taking any more of his students.

So it was with a puzzling lifting of the strain on his very existence that the hemisphere began to brighten. As it brightened, the darkness fell off it like eggshells off a newborn dragon. Light began to radiate out of it, like a newborn star and the light engulfed everything. Tabitha squinted her eyes and turned away at it; Montmorency and Guiche held onto each other tighter. Kirche could finally turn away before the shining aura. Malicorne turned around in his hole to see what was happening and turned back again.

When the light had stopped radiating, before them all was what appeared to be an upright Louise, no longer frozen or surrounded in miasma.

"The familiar and master are one." Louise the Zero declared solidly and confidently, holding up her now-marked left hand for all to see. No-one visibly reacted in any way than with stares of confusion and wonder, except for Montmorency, now on the left side of an unconscious Guiche.

"Branding yourself a tattoo and then saying 'The familiar and master are one.' As expected of Louise the Zero!" Louise simply ignored her, smirking to herself. Zero meant much more than zero results now.

Colbert sighed in relief, expecting that Louise would've died. "Well then, Miss Vallière, that summoning was more dramatic than usual, but as it was successful, I think I can safely say, you've succeeded in both 'Summon Servant' and 'Contract Servant' in one attempt." Colbert took a quick glance at the runes on her clenched fist and quickly etched them, uttering "Interesting" to himself.

"Well everyone, class dismissed." Colbert stated simply and he and the other students flew away, some jeering at Louise for the familiar that was one with her. Their thoughts didn't matter now. She was Louise the Zero and this time, she could embrace that name with wholehearted gratitude.

If one were to closely observe her, they would notice that this Louise exuded confidence hitherto found in such an unsuccessful girl like her. Those eyes carried a conviction of steel that was foreign and a very close observer would notice that her assets were somewhat more fully developed. Malicorne de Grandple, stuck in his hole yet with his wand still in his hand knew this very well with his Remote Vision spell. He had also began to know that Louise the Zero had one hell of a piercing death glare that caused him to tremble enough to jump out of his little hole and run away like a little pig while fireballs chased his behind across the whole academy.

She was able to cast spells.

* * *

In a certain part of Gallia, the Mad King felt something, _something_ inexplicable that made him drop his goblet on the marble floor.

* * *

Profile #00

Name: Louise the Zero. Also known as Liberal Louise.

Profession: Magic Academy Student

Age: Mentally 357 years, born 2143 AD. Physically 16-17, born 6223 Halkeginian.

Gender/Sex: It's complicated. As with sex, female.

Hair and eye colour: Strawberry blond/Light Brown

Blood Type: AB+

Bust:B-

Earth Juice: 1000 (Elite Liberal)

Halkeginian Juice: 50 (Commoner Threat)

Heart: Infinite

Intelligence: 527

Wisdom: 750 due to high casualties under leadership.

Health: 10

Agility: 8

Strength: 8

Charisma: 9001

Base magic: 9 (High Triangle)

Arguably the Fifth Zero in the universe. An anomaly case amongst familiar summonings because of the fact that 1) The familiar is invisible and 2) The runes are inscribed on her hand. Displays a previously unseen confidence - uncharacteristic of Louise - that one may see on her face with slightly furrowed brows and a small, barely perceptible ever-present smile or smirk. A closer examination by the interested shows them that this Louise has a slightly larger bosom and that her voice carries a very absorbing and sultry quality. Throws fireballs at people who stare at her features, which is strange considering that Louise previously had negligible magic beyond destructive explosions.

Isn't _'completely'_ Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. It's her with some influence from the Fourth Zero.

* * *

Read, **follow _(NOT JUST FAVOURITE)_** and review. **_It keeps me going._** Plus, I double chapter word length every chapter.


	3. Explosion 2 - Two Liberals for a Squad

A/N: I'm basing this fanfic off the light novel when possible – the anime will be used occasionally, for example, after Volume 20 of the light novels and for whenever I want kicks and giggles. I'll try to produce an original plot however. I'm trying to create a deep, serious and meaningful exploration of 21st Century politics that touches on the context of 17th Century society so don't expect any serious light on pairings.

Disclaimer: Zero no Tsukaima belongs to a dead guy. LCS is a Bay12 videogame. Credits to all, I own only the plot. Furthermore, excuse the political language. It's part of LCS the game; I'm not trying to write that Che Guevara fanfic.

Read, **follow _(NOT JUST FAVOURITE)_** and review. **_It keeps me going._** Plus, I double chapter word length every chapter.

**Triple Zero  
**

_Explosion Two - Two Liberals for a Squad_

* * *

"Сука!" A blow from a Valkyrie, which only some minutes ago had been under the poor subject's control, connected with a restrained Guiche de Gramont's face the instant that foreign word had been hollered. Pretty boy blonde was going to need heavy duty dentures for the teeth that were knocked out of him. Pacing around him, there was a certain maid who also happened to be reading a book regarding plans that lasted for five years. Because of that maid and her verbalisation of phrases that had no apparent context and words without meaning, Austri Plaza had become the location for the newest freak show of the year. There was a rather large audience, which would've intervened to save a fellow noble were it not for the fact that 1) the cause of their concerns was disturbing as Hell 2) it was nominally a duel (and any decent noble knew you weren't supposed to intervene in duels regardless of the legality) and 3) a petite yet still iron Louise de la Vallière basically threatened to roast them all into a crisp, make them sifts with icicles, suffocate them and rock their brains out if they interfered.

Waving the book in front of her to and fro menacingly in front of Guiche's face, Siesta cackled and placed her right hand on her hip, staring intently into the dandy's eye.

Siesta simply said, "Two plus two is equal to five."

That wild smile that stretched from ear to ear told Guiche all that he needed to know.

Now, if any of the onlookers knew what had truly happened the day before or its implications, they would've understood the reason for all this commotion. However, Fate, being the fickle Confederate trickster that it was, let no-one knew of what had truly happened the day before.

* * *

_**Earlier in the day**_

Water was wet. The world had two moons. Sugar was sweet and Louise de la Vallière was wide awake heavily breathing, sitting on her bed, her legs covered by the thick quilt.

Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière had had one of the most perplexing and terrifying dreams in her life, to put it simply; it had involved being consumed by her own Springtime Familiar Summoning spell, which had then led her into some inexplicable dimension wherein the light was a slave to the omnipresent darkness. In that world, she had met the familiar that was supposedly meant for her; a doppelganger of herself. That doppelganger, she had seen to been able to manipulate the darkness around it. That, in itself was neither perplexing nor terrifying; rather, it was the content of the prospective (and hopefully imagined) familiar's morality and character that had irked the very waters of her soul.

That familiar was to say the very least, _ignoble_. She or he (though upon having it force upon her its experiences, Louise was sure it was a 'he') was _alien_ to the world in this which Louise resided. Within the realm of its mind, she had encountered new ideas that were completely foreign to her; _anarchism _(the mere premise made her shudder),_ capitalism _(the thought of wealth being _created_ was foreign to her; she had been taught that wealth could only be taken and forfeited, not that she cared much about money), _imperialism_ (from the viewpoint of certain thinkers, particularly those from Albion, it made sense to try and make the Elves of the Holy Land, or rather the Elves that _stole_ the Holy Land subjects), _militarism _(the strongest and richest nation in Halkeginia was Gallia and it was because of its large army and navy, so the doppelganger's negative view of it puzzled her slightly), _humanitarianism _(which went against some of her education on the unworthiness of the Third Estate), _nationalism _(something that made her think about what it meant to be a Tristanian, yet also created a slight uneasiness in her as she thought of the commoners seizing such an idea), _communism _(of which Zero's memories cast a shadow of absolute terror onto her), _conservatism _(she considered it a legitimate reaction to all the horrible ideas that were permeating her mind), _socialism _(which made her think of how funny it would be if all the Vallière estate's land was given to the peasants) and _liberalism._

_Liberalism_ was the idea that dwelled most on her mind; "All men are created equal.", "Men are born and remain free and equal in rights. Social distinctions may be founded only upon the general good.", "All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights...". Regardless of the form in which the idea reverberated inside of her head, the moral and philosophical essence behind it resonated inside of her.

To a noble, those ideas should've been insulting. The thought of a commoner farmhand or a merchant having as much worth as a skilled mage of good breeding, or a commoner rising to become the leader of nation, would've filled any decent noble with a sense of honour or _nobility_ with contempt; in this world, everyone had their places. Commoners would farm and give grain to their lords. The lords in turn, would protect them. That was the system ordained by Brimir, was it not? Thus, there was a question to beg; why did she feel sympathy for these ideals? She had a lineage that traced back all the way to Brimir; she was not some poor, jealous, ungrateful peasant that was adopted by Karin the Heavy Wind out of pity was she? She cringed at that possibility. Hopefully, she was not, though the magical aptitude (or her lack of it rather) that she demonstrated told her otherwise…

Thankfully, it had all been a dream. Today, she was going to summon a beautiful, powerful and sacred familiar. Hopefully, the resulting summon would be the long-due verification of her status as a mage to her and she wouldn't have to contemplate the horrible possibility that she was a dead (or worse, grafted) branch of the high Vallière tree. With much vigour, she kicked off her blanket and sat on the side of the bed, stretching her arms and spreading her legs wide in anticipation for the day to come. A feline smile accompanied that motion, which belied her troubled state of mind.

There was one interruption to her relaxation; a certain maid was standing by the doorway, blue with dismay at the venereal sight before her.

Clearing her throat without moving a hand off the half-full basket of laundry she was holding (how did you accomplish that?), Siesta sighed out;

"Please Miss Vallière, make yourself decent."

* * *

Zero, as she called herself (it was now a given that she possessed female features and sex was always more relevant than gender to her/him) was lounging around in her apartment or what appeared to be it. The condition of being in another world gnawed at his mind; how would the revolution at home proceed without his leadership? While it was certain all the cells in New York were probably destroyed or in hiding, the ones in Sacramento, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Salt Lake City, Austin and virtually all other cities west of the Mississippi that were liberated ('rebellion' implied that the President's authority was in any shape or form legitimate) could still be intact. From a certain perspective, she (or he since it was in the past) did not fail too badly. The Liberal Crime Squad was designed since its inception 2009 to be like a hydra; cut one head off and more will grow. The Confederate States of America now possessed only the Eastern Coast from Virginia upwards.

Zero snickered at the irony, slapping her thighs. Six hundred and thirty five years ago, it had been the Confederates that were south of the Potomac. Granted, if you factored in a President who made himself immortal on the blood of puppies and kittens, it seemed to be less insane; still, the image of rednecks and Appalachians calling each other 'comrade-compatriots' (because as socialist as they were, American Liberals were rarely, if ever, true flaming Stalinists) and toasting to Abraham Lincoln while burning the Confederate flag was egregious. When you thought of Dixie, you thought of angry old men in white hoods, not rustic, dirt covered partisans with a motley assemblage of antique AK-47s and P-74 war lasers. At least they've gotten over lynching black people when the economy went wrong (besides, there weren't that much black people left considering the Death Squads had rounded nearly all of them up).

On a more serious note, how would the revolution fare when Zero was gone? She seriously considered that question. Admittedly, the Liberal Crime Squad was like a virus; it found its host and multiplied, repeating the cycle all over again. If an organ infected with the virus was destroyed, there would be others to replace it; however, it was not the spread of the Liberal Cause that concerned Zero; what would happen to the Revolution once it was known the Fourth Zero committed suicide (or appeared to)? Zero pressed his right palm into the sofa; every time a Zero had died, another had come to replace them – the New York cell however, was fully ratted out – she wasn't sure on whether any sleepers had the virtue, the juice to rally the Squad back together in New York. Would the revolution screech to a stalemating halt, or worse, would the CSA counterattack and destroy the LCS? Only seeing could tell, and Zero had no means to see New York.

New York was the key. It was the key to full foreign recognition. It was the key to being recognised by the Helvetican Protectorate. While it was true that New Orleans provided them access to Brazil (one of the few countries in the American continent untouched by the Great ICBM Disaster of the 25th Century) and the United States of Africa (which by virtue at the time, was too poor to get royally nuked), and San Francisco to Magna Australia (considered too unimportant for another one of the President's nukings) and the Republic of China (the phoenix rising from the ashes of nuclear war), Europe and what remained of Central Asia were the missing key to winning the Revolution, the Third American Civil War. New York would've provided a steady, wealthy base to tax for revenue, while also being a starting point for a route from America to the Middle East, where the Confederate Crusaders' main base on Eurasia was. Virginia's ports, quite frankly, were not enough. The Cause needed the advanced financial capabilities of New York to bring the fight to Boston and to Jerusalem.

The contemplation of military and geopolitical strategy was a strain on Zero, as a tortured yawn indicated. What point was there now thinking about the war back at home when she was now on an alien planet, far away (by at least a galaxy if she was correct in her observation of the night sky) with twin moons? All that she (damned pronouns were annoying her now) could do now was hope for the best and expect the worst. Hell, she could even test that hypothesis of Einstein that there was no 'meanwhile' by seeing how time passed once she got back (if she ever). Then again, the options she had available to her for entertainment were somewhat limited. The ability to conjure virtually anything out of the thick darkness that she resided in could only be enjoyed to a certain degree until her creativity was exhausted. Regarding importing the revolution into this unfamiliar land of Halkeginia, she could not find out a way to repeat the phenomenon of possessing that strawberry blonde's body (which would've been very useful for such a purpose, with all its agility and vigour that contrasted sharply with the bodylessness of Zero).

Honestly, it was boring. It was _**B.O.R.I.N.G. **_How could the Idea expect Zero to enjoy immortality if there was no mechanism to get rid of boredom? Although there was no need to eat, the food that could be conjured for a gourmet treat was of limited gastronomic appeal. The movies had the same old rusted plots and the sofas' softness was too comfortable for the likes of her. What was she to do?

As if in response, a door behind Zero opened. Standing up to inspect the sudden opening, Zero noticed that it was no longer pitch black like it was before; previously, the only door that led to anywhere, i.e. this boring apartment unit, was the door to the apartment, which on the outside, looked like a French (Poor frogs never stood a stand before 'Murica) chateau; all other doors were as dark as unused storerooms. Before her, through the doorway, Zero could see what appeared to be a village, surrounded on two sides by a brilliant verdant, with unpaved roads channelling a rustic sense of home throughout the village. Curious, Zero exited the apartment and closed the door, taking note of the rich rural air, untainted by radiation and mutant faeces. Turning around, she noticed that 1) the exterior appeared to be that's of a humble homesteader's ('peasant' would suggest a mud hut) stone abode. Additionally, there was also the fact to consider that Zero was wearing a maid uniform.

'_Something tells me I've going to meet someone who looks the same as me._' If it happened once, it could happen twice.

* * *

Honestly, was that maid anaemic? She had taken just one order from Louise, and at the moment that the maid had clothed Louise in her skirt, the maid had, quite inexplicably, fainted and fallen down. Were servants not used to dressing up naked noble young adults? That was their job, wasn't it (though admittedly, anybody would have trouble dressing up Malicorne de Grandplé.)?

Regardless, now Louise had to go through the taxing task of putting on her chemisier. Looking with disinterest at the slightly wrinkled garment, Louise de la Vallière pried the shirt out of the maid's stiff hands. Unconscious maids were quite similar to angry crabs – their vice-grips had a tendency to ruin everything. With a huff of slight dismay, Louise pulled herself into the chemisier. Walking towards the vanity, she drew out a pair of stockings, seating herself on the bed and drawing them from her toes to her lower thighs. With another groan (characteristic of annoyed nobles and little girls and little girl nobles) of exertion, she swung herself upright, feet on the floor. There was the cloak to deal with…

… And her search just had to be rudely interrupted by a certain red-haired intruder.

"Honestly, Louise, I expected a Vallière to have a little more integrity."

Standing before the open doorway, a redhead significantly taller than Louise, with a bust that put the latter's to shame, smirked with mock disapproval with her hands on her waists. It just had to be her of all people, didn't it?

"What do you want, Kirche?" The blood pressure in Louise's head was noticeably higher.

"I just came in to see what all the racket was all about." Flicking her hair, Kirche continued with that smile of hers that annoyed Louise to no end.

"Apparently, you couldn't even manage to summon even a measly familiar." A croak from outside responded as if icing Kirche's taunt with a hint of sarcasm. A red salamander with a flaming tail revealed itself to the right of Kirche.

"Eh?" Louise was needless to say, confused. Summoning? Familiar? Wasn't the familiar summoning today?

"I thought the summoning was supposed to be on the Third Day? It was the Second Day yesterday."

In response to this, Kirche raised an eyebrow, complemented by a vague snickering sound from her familiar. Not only was Louise an incompetent mage, it also appeared that 1) she was in denial enough to hire a commoner as a familiar and 2) she was so mentally off she couldn't remember either the days of the week or the Springtime Familiar Summoning that she was obviously trying to cover up with a maid. The contorted eyebrows shifted to an expressing of disbelief. Kirche was cringing. The possibility of Louise being an adopted commoner was now suddenly very real.

"It was the Third Day yesterday. The salamander you see to my right is Flame. I summoned it yesterday. Now if you'd excuse me, I'm going to go have breakfast. Oh, and just in case you're thinking of anything; my door does not have a sign that says 'Dead Commoner Storage'." With uncharacteristic speed, like that's of a wild animal's flight from something revolting, Kirche and her familiar dashed away.

The realisation that 'yesterday' was not a dream hit Louise full in the face.

* * *

Scurrying around in the restricted part of the library, a certain Jean Colbert was looking for answers to the runes that he had seen on Louis de la Vallière's left hand. The fact that the runes were on her hand and not on a visible familiar was not what concerned him; "Inner Familiars", although extremely rare, were not exceptional summonings would've called upon men and elves; that was not what had happened with Miss Vallière, however, so he was not concerned with that; rather, he was concerned about what the runes stood for. They were awfully familiar (no pun intended).

Fenrir's Library was a special part of the academy's library. It was special because 1) it was more than 30 mails tall (the height of the outer libraries), it functionally acted as an archive for documents over thousands of years old and 3) it was a pyromaniac's wet dream. On the third point, Colbert cringed. He did not want anyone to know that he was the one that incinerated D'Angleterre, so that he could live out the remainder of his life in peace. The thought that he was responsible for orphaning a child by turning her parents into ashes or asphyxiating them (which was slower than incineration and therefore, far worse) and then having that child scream for his blood for the next 20 years was always on his mind, like a knife against a hostage's neck. It threatened him constantly. There was always the possibility that she had already tracked him down and was now preparing to kill him…

With this thought on his mind, it was not surprising that when a tome fell off the shelves and landed with a thud, he almost cast a fireball.

"I only did what I had to do…" Colbert reassured himself with a sigh. What was the likelihood of a Third Estate child managing to enter an occupation that provided them access to the truth behind D'Angleterre? He relaxed his arms and levitated the tome, a biography on Brimir evidently. It so happened that the first page he saw was on the runes he had on his mind.

"Gandálfr…"

* * *

"She's running from the shame!"

"There goes the Zero!"

"Zero breakfast!"

"Goodness, running like a commoner!"

"Maybe she's making a break for it?"

"Did Louise the Zero fall in love?"

Those were the assorted jeers (supposed or real, she could not distinguish due to years of attacks on her pride) that Louise heard as she ran through the corridors of the Academy. For all the harsh grinding against her dignity they caused, she could not care about what her peers thought of her. What she was concerned with rather, was the familiar she had summoned (or not). So it was with great haste that Louise was running to the library instead of Alviss Hall. Breakfast could wait. So could the consequences for calling her names. She had to find an answer. Why was the familiar invisible? Why did it feel like the she shared a consciousness with the familiar without having her senses extended? Did she summon a familiar at all?

All while those thoughts were racing through her head, she was neglecting to look at where she was running towards. It was with a great slam that she went head first into the side of a teacher that was reading a levitating tome before him.

"Watch out, Miss Vallière!"

As was with the case with nearly all warnings, Jean Colbert's exclamation did not prevent him from being hit in the side by a certain diminutive strawberry blond.

"Hey, watch where you're going you stupid… Mr Colbert?" A slightly dizzy Louise oriented herself on the floor.

"The same could be said of you, Miss Vallière." Colbert rubbed his underside and made himself upright with his wand. Being middle-aged was not kind to the human skeleton, magical or not.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Colbert!" Louise's face was red with shame.

"No, I not concerned with you making me fall. It's the book I was reading."

Louise searched the ground and saw what remained of a tome. Dust.

"Must've had an enchantment on it, I don't think even books that ancient usually turn into dust."

The question of responsibility and consequences began to flood into Louise's mind.

"You seem quite worried Miss, Vallière. If it's about the tome there's no need to worry, as I already copied it…"

"Familiar."

"Pardon me, Miss Vallière?"

"My familiar. Did I summon it?"

"Of course you did. Yesterday, you…"

"Then where is it?!"

"Oh, that…" Jean Colbert was known to be an intellectual man. He was also well known to be a very absent-minded man as well. It dawned upon him that he had neglected to explain to Louise the nature of her familiar the day before.

"Where is it Mr Colbert? If I summoned if, why can't I sense it?!" Louise was frantic now. Familiars were the Confirmation of all mages; even the most incompetent mages could summon them. If they could not, then they were probably adopted commoners or squibs.

"Calm down, Miss Vallière, I'll explain it. Come with me."

* * *

"No breakfast, and following a teacher?"

"I think she's going to get expelled."

"Zero has zero familiars!" Whether or not those jeers were real, she could still sense the essence of their mockery as she was led by Mr Colbert to his shed.

Opening the door, Mr Colbert beckoned Louise in. She could see all kinds of apparatus; beakers, flasks, a lighter – if an event dragged you into Mr Colbert's shed, it was probably because either you were in great trouble, or that you were going to be commended for your efforts. She was expecting the former.

The creak of the closing door screeched. It felt as if the equipment in the shed was looking at her. Louise prepared herself for the worst.

"Why are you standing still, Miss Vallière? Take a seat, you're not in trouble." Louise obliged, but was sceptical. If she had no achievements, then it was probably going to be admonishment.

"I think I forgot to explain the nature of your familiar, Miss Vallière." Of course he did, he was so fascinated with the runes on her hand that he just dismissed the class without any further ado after the rituals were completed.

"Tell me, Miss Vallière, did you remember saying to me "The familiar and master are one" once the summoning ritual was completed?" If she said 'yes', it would be a sign.

"No." The anxiety was obvious in Louise's voice. The staring down on the table gave all her fears away to anyone who paid attention.

"It's just as I hypothesised then…"

Louise's head perked up, her face showing a readiness for the inevitable revelation that she was not a mage.

"…It appears that you have summoned an Inner Familiar."

Whether for better or worse, Louise skipped a heart-beat. So it was not an announcement that she was not a mage. Still, questions perplexed her.

"Inner Familiar?" An expression of both relief and puzzlement was on her face.

"Inner familiar. Alter ego. 'The other me'. 'The second self'. Call it what you wish, but you summoned an Inner Familiar. That would explain your lack of memory on the matter."

"Are they rare?" The feelings of doubt began to leave her heart. Maybe she wasn't a squib or adoptee after all.

"Quite so in fact. Their average frequency is one every half a century. I can see why you're worried. Whenever it happens, the mages tend to think they've blundered. Here's a manual on the thing." Colbert drew out a book of roughly 200 pages and placed it on the table. It was titled "Managing Inner Familiars."

Louise's eyes were fixated on it. She really had summoned a non-physical familiar and that book proved it.

"Oh, dear." Colbert looked at the pendulum clock behind him, which had begun to cuckoo and clang. "It seems like the first period has started. I suggest you get going Miss Vallière."

That was not necessary. By the time he had turned around, the book was already gone and the chair vacant. At least he could now investigate the Left Hand of God in peace.

* * *

By the time Louise had made it to the classroom, she was huffing and panting like a dog on a wild goose chase. This could be explained by the fact that she had to sprint all the way to her room to get her textbook and then all the way back to 2nd Year Basic Elements. Stairs did not make going to A to B to C easy that either. It was with an exasperated gasp for air that she slammed the heavy door of oak to the classroom open to be greeted by a rather round woman in violet to her right. Her name was Miss Chevreuse.

"Good Morning, Miss Vallière, you've arrived just in time. We were discussing familiars earlier," at this, Louise's grip on the book tightened "and even though it seems like you didn't bring yours, I'm sure we'll manage to get through this lesson without it. Please go to your table, Miss Vallière."

As Louis went to take her seat, she swore she could hear whispers and giggles about her apparent lack of a familiar. She could also feel a distinct breeze around her bosom. The classrooms were well known for being draughty; she shrugged the likelihood of some glutton using it to gaze upon her assets (why in Brimir's name would you use remote vision on anyone but Kirche?).

"Strange, I swore she had more than a washboard yesterday."

"Malicorne, what are you, a child-lover?" Louise's ears twitched in attention at this.

"No, I swear she had at least half a mail more in breasts."

Damn it! That fat pig really had used remote vision on her chest!

Louise, with much puissance, cast her chair in the window behind her, shattering in. A frown of dismay appeared on Miss Chevreuse's round face, as Louise threw her wrath at Malicorne.

"You're not even a 'common cold' any more; you're Malicorne the Cold Sore! You fat lecherous, gluttonous pig, why don't you go and use Remote Vision on some other girl's breasts?" The thought of being eye-candy for that Brimir-damned hog was enough to enrage her. As her rage boiled, so did the chatter of the students, curious to know what Malicorne was doing.

"Eh, Malicorne's interested in Zero?" Montmorency quizzically squealed.

"My goodness, I knew something was off about Oinky."

"What a desperate wretch! He's a glutton and a lecher, and one with bad taste at that!" This, strangely enough, came from Guiche.

A small tremor brought the classroom to silence.

"I will have order! Mr Grandplé, you're going to have a chat with me about your use of Remote Vision for venereal liberties after class. Miss Vallière, don't break things you can't fix!" A very tense Miss Chevreuse raised her wand in the air, a very serious expression killing all the noise that had dominated the classroom a minute before.

"Now that that has been settled, today we're going to revise Earth." Lowering her bulbous wand, Chevreuse pivoted her head across the classroom. She considered two things; how to deal with Malicorne after class (she couldn't be too harsh; she knew what it was like to be rejected because of your corpulence, but then again, she couldn't let noble children descend into libertine behaviour) and Louise de la Vallière (she needed to understand that wrecking chairs and windows was not the ideal anger management strategy for a mage).

Clearing her throat (why was it whenever you cleared your throat, you sounded pretentious?), Chevreuse began.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Before we continue, we need to recall what the elements are. Mr Grandple?"

An obviously flustered and ashamed Malicorne replied almost instantaneously, "Fire, water, earth and… wind, Miss Chevreuse." For anyone who paid attention to what had happened just minutes ago, the reason for his hesitation on uttering 'wind' was obvious. A small 'harrumph' came from Louise, who was seated at the back.

"Those, and void, Mr Grandplé, though some would argue that void is essentially non-existent due to not being seen used for the last six thousand years. Regarding, Earth, unlike void and the dry elements, Wind and Fire to those who did not pay attention last year, it is, alongside Water, one of the most important elements in existence."

If one paid close attention to Guiche's eyes, one could see that they were in a trance of pride and fantasy. Water and earth were both elements, wet with the loam that was romantic passion. It was so poetic considering that Montmorency was had an affinity with water. Out of the fertile, freshly watered soil would bloom their mutual love. At the sight of Guiche lost in himself, Montmorency only raised an eyebrow in question. He didn't sleep with a girl did he? Why then was he so mellow in his mood? He didn't get some other girl's soufflé, did he? He would not go get some other girl's soufflé, would he? Hopefully, she would be his first and only soufflé.

"Put simply, Earth is used for a variety of purposes in Brimirdom. Firstly, it is instrumental in agriculture. Fertility of soils tends to decline after a period of extensive farming by the commoners and it is often necessary for mages to revitalise it. Furthermore, Earth is also used in quarrying; the manipulation of vast masses of granite and stone is done by highly-experienced Square-level mages in order to create new homes for labourer and artisans; quite briefly, Earth is integral to the order that Brimir has provided to us."

"Is Earth also used in cosmetics, madam?" The way Guiche addressed another female (age and frame made no difference, for men were dogs permanently in rut) made Montmorency leer sideways. "Would it be possible for an Earth mage to create creams and powders that lifted one's face?"

"Yes, it is, Mr Gramont and I would prefer it if you did not address me as if you were my beau." A blob of red clay flew from her wand and stuffed itself firmly in Guiche's mouth. She did not need to be reminded of her age, regardless of whatever context it was brought up in.

"You need to learn the value of tact, Mr Gramont; you not going to court any fair maiden nobles if you go on with your randomly directed flirting, overt or otherwise. After class, Mr Gramont." An expression of disappointment and dismay stained Miss Chevreuse's face for a second.

'Oh, so now that dog is interested in older women now?' The twitching in Montmorency's eyes began to became visible to close observers (not like there was any after Malicorne's dirty little secret was shown to all).

"As I was saying, Earth is an element that is valuable to the realm's and Brimirdom's order. It is the element of foundations; without Earth, no other element could stand. Not even wind, which needs solid substance to 'exist'." All eyes were on Malicorne as soon as Miss Chevreuse said 'wind'.

"Without Earth, farming as we knew it would not exist. Without food paid as rent for use of land, mages would have no food to build willpower from and the commoners would have no farms to tend to. Without food, not only commoners, but nobles would starve. Such a horrible state of affairs would cause anger among the commoners and then they'd farm less and thus the cycle would descend further." Miss Chevreuse finished. Thankfully, she was not interrupted like in the first-year class. Not even Triangle-level earth magic could rid the room of that stink bomb that was spoiled soufflé. Catherine should not have used semi-legal love potion analogues in her cooking.

"Now that we've detailed the theory and background behind, Earth, I think it is now time for a practical." Chevreuse drew some pebbles from her sleeve and placed them on the table. Waving her wand in a concentric circle before finally stopping at the centre, Chevreuse transmuted them.

"G-g-gold? Are you a Square-level mage, miss?" An astounded Kirche was gawking at Miss Chevreuse's table. Of all the mages in the world, 65% were Dot-level mages. 30% were Line-level mages, 4% Triangle-level mages and only 1% Square-level mages. A school with a Square-level mage was not only a rarity, it was a prized one. Perhaps that was what her parents were considering when they transferred her here?

"Brass, and unfortunately, I'm only a Triangle-level mage. Perceptively, you highlighted the relationship between elemental levels and alchemy, Miss Zerbst. You must be commended for that."

"Now, I need some someone to volunteer."

Miss Chevreuse's request was met with an unexpected silence. This class was well known for having some of the most enthusiastic of students; their grades were all exceptionally high. Then again, if you embarrass the talkative ones, no doubt they were going to refrain from volunteering and furthermore, even in a class of geniuses, it would've been only a minority that usually raised their hands to volunteer. Students were always shy without exception.

"If no one will volunteer, then I'm going to pick randomly."

Furtive glances flew across the room. Though the possibility was only one in twenty, someone had to volunteer just to prevent the infamous Zero from creating a bad, explosive impression on Chevreuse's face. The glances seemed to whisper the name 'Reynald'. Unfortunately for the class, Reynald was somewhat preoccupied with a leering at a bosom of a certain redhead behind him.

"Well?"

The furtive glances became even more rapid, the anxiety in them even more obvious. Miss Chevreuse wondered if they were a means of lottery; if it were, it certainly was an inefficient one.

"Well then, I guess I have to pick someone randomly. Excuse me, Miss Vallière?" The glancing stopped at that moment. Of all the twenty heads in the room, it just had to be hers. The looks of anxiety on everyone's faces had evolved in an expression of shocked despair at the fact that a living time bomb had been picked for the demonstration.

"Yes, Miss Chevreuse?" Playing dumb would only prolong the time before the explosion took place. Louise knew very well that this was going to result in an explosion and that she was going to clean up the mess afterwards. At least she would not be tormented by the temptation to use magic. Extreme worry wrinkled her face; at this rate, the pressures of being a noble were going to make her die before Cattleya; at least Cattleya had the benefit of being able to cast magic, however.

"Please come here and demonstrate transmutation for the class."

The tense atmosphere in the classroom was evident to anyone who was familiar with this particular class; sadly for Miss Chevreuse, she knew nothing about that.

"Excuse me, Miss Chevreuse." Zerbst had just stood up from her seat.

"If you wanted to volunteer Miss Zerbst, you should've stood up earlier. It's Miss Vallière's turn to demonstrate and it would courteous of you not to interrupt." All classes had their troubles. The cryptic glances and stares shooting around were one of them. She'd need to give them a lecture about that later.

"It's not that, Miss Chevreuse… You see…"

"Hm?" Chevreuse wondered what Kirche was about to say. Maybe it would explain the looks darting across the classroom.

"... Louise de la Vallière can't cast spells." The cringing in everyone at the understatement was visible, even to Miss Chevreuse.

"Excuse me, Miss Zerbst, after class. You need to learn about not mocking your peers. Proceed here, Miss Vallière." This class was proving to be a handful. A lecher, a flirt and a bully were the characters she had met and admonished so far. There was variety, but not in the good sense. Hopefully, the strawberry blonde that was coming down the steps (Why was everyone staring at her? Why were they ostracising her?) would prove her somewhat tarnished first impression of the supposedly best class wrong.

Guiche braced himself. Malicorne was attempting to get under the table (his rump was interfering with this endeavour however). For some reason, Tabitha was nowhere to be seen. Kirche's head could be seen poking from behind the table. The tension in the familiars that were present reflected their owners' worries. Miss Chevreuse would get a blast out of picking Louise, quite literally. That also meant chemises and chemisiers with soot and ash on them and expensive textbooks reduced to shreds.

"Go on, Miss Vallière." Miss Chevreuse wanted to see the aptitude of the strawberry blonde. Was she disliked because she was so industrious and focused on her learning? The marks Chevreuse had been told of certainly suggested that.

Louise's grip on her wand was wavering, a particularly vicious trembling gripping it. Choices, choices. If she didn't cast, she would be called after class for failing to participate and she would just be picked next time. If she did cast, there would be an explosion and she would receive punitive classroom duty, but at least the teacher wouldn't have picked on her the next time around. She pondered on whether to cast, or not to cast. It wouldn't leave a good impression on her image to blast the teacher into unconsciousness, but neither would it to not cast. That would make her seem weak.

"We're waiting for you, Miss Vallière."

To cast or not cast, that was the great question. To cast meant that she would further cement her reputation as Louise the Zero. To not cast would also make that nickname appropriate to her and so she agonised over which poison pill to swallow. Cast and be outcast. Don't cast and she would still be an outcast.

"Miss Vallière? Are you going to cast or not?" In all honesty, Miss Chevreuse could see why Louise de la Vallière was reluctant to cast. He classmates had obviously destroyed her confidence at one point or another. She would have to give them a lecture in the end. Even then, however, rules and were rules and students had to perform magic when they were asked to.

To cast or not to cast, to cast or not to cast, to cast or not to cast, oh, _**SCREW IT!**_

With a wave of a wand, the pebbles… did not explode.

Reverberating throughout the classroom were groans of astonishment which captured the surprised nature of her peer's reactions. Louise de la Vallière had not cast an explosion. The sheer fact that she did not cast an explosion usually meant that she was unable to cast the spell altogether. Therein laid the class's surprise; Louise de la Vallière had managed to successfully cast a spell.

If the face on Louise's face could be adequately described, it was on that suggested a mixture of fear and awe. For the first time in her life, Louise de la Vallière had managed to cast magic beyond turning on a lamp. That success meant something to her. It meant that she was a mage and thus was truly the daughter of Karin the Heavy Wind. If the sheer look of awe on Miss Chevreuse's face indicated anything, there was also the possibility that she was much more.

"Miss Vallière, you've transmuted pebbles into lithina!" There was a clear look of astonishment on Miss Chevreuse's face at the silvery, imperfect orbs before her and sounds of curiosity from the class made it known to Louise that there was something wrong with what she had done.

"L-Lithina?" The trembling voice of Louise de la Vallière made a worried inquiry.

Grasping Louise's hands in her own, Miss Chevreuse confirmed her previous statement.

"Yes, Miss Vallière, lithina!" That face of admiration Miss Chevreuse had on her face furhter shifted into a smile of pride.

"This is truly an accomplishment, Miss Vallière." Turning her attention to the class, Miss Chevreuse continued.

"Everyone, attention! I think I've found a great mage among us." Gasps and of shock and wonder filled the room.

"Louise a great mage? Bollocks!"

"I bet she made a deal with the elves!"

"Is this one of those commoner 'magic tricks', Vallière?" The unkind chatter resonated through the room as the surprise propelled it.

"Attention!" Another tremor engulfed the room into silence.

"I will have this class acknowledge Miss Vallière's skill. What Miss Vallière has just done is a significant achievement and I want everyone to pay attention to it!" A thud on the table reinforced her point.

"Miss Louise Le Blanc de La Vallière here has just done something amazing for us. She had transmuted stone into lithina. Does anyone know why transmuting into Lithina is significant?" Ms Chevreuse's eyes scanned the classroom. Obviously, this class weren't a lot of textbook readers.

"Anybody? No? No-one?" Again, not only were they not studious, they weren't that active in class.

"Miss Vallière, would you please care to explain to your peers why what you did was so significant?" Louise's eyes turned at that. Though she could revel in her pride at what she had accomplished now, she was going to have to deal with more jeering later. This time, they'd probably accuse her of theatrical tricks.

"Yes miss." Louise swallowed. She knew the textbook work very well, but it wasn't that that concerned her. It was the way her peers were going to react. Regardless, Louise started to recite the textbook passage.

"According to 'Basic Applied Transmutation' by Nicholas Flamel, transmutation into lithina not only is rare and fascinating; it is a sign of development from Triangle-level magical aptitude to Square-level aptitude. Lithina is a basic substance that is hard to transmute into, not because of the amount of willpower required, but rather due to the amount of control and discipline over one's magic that is necessary for the transmutation. Transmutation into lithina requires a meticulous amount of experience with casting magic and is among the harder metals to cast, alongside gold, page 47." Louise huffed at the breathlessness caused by the explanation. To some, it would've been showing off, but right now, her fellow students were too astounded to make any comments.

"Correct, Miss Vallière. It seems like you've studied a lot for this. Not even I can transmute into lithina. After class, Miss Vallière, though not for the chair."

After Louise went back to her seat, Miss Chevreuse told the class about the virtues of hard work and dismissed the class. It seemed that the spotlight was going to be on Louise de la Vallière for quite a bit.

* * *

A certain maid was not having a good day. First, she got knocked out by a noble girl (that was a week of docked pay) and now she had to work on one of the less hygienic of chores; feeding the familiars. It was the only way that she was going to make up for the pay she lost from not setting up breakfast. If noble children were like this, it was no wonder that the adults were outright sociopaths… Apparently, rumours had talked off a recreational orgy ring among the royal messengers. That, and the fact getting flirted on by young, questionably self-disciplined maîtres and the occasional filthy and often, more direct Junker transfer student from Germania were enough to make the choice of resignation a tempting one. Alas, money was necessary for life; rural taxes were high and nowadays, living on the land and selling grain was not enough to provide for a family. This was Siesta's plight.

On an ordinary day without being knocked out by some damned mage's incantations, Siesta could be usually seen moving along the academy, doing whatever work she was doing with a neutral face, taking all the unwanted advances in stride (the ones from the blonde orc were enough to strain this patience). "Hey, bosom." "What church do you go to?", "Will you marry me?", "Hey, Siesta, could you make me a baby for dinner?" were the less explicit (though not any less awful) wolf whistles that were thrown at her whenever she was at work. Sometimes, the more crude ones would just outright call her by the name of body parts. Still, two things were certain in life; death and taxes and she did not want the failure to deal with the latter lead anyone around her through the former, whether by irate noble or just plain old poverty and starvation.

Hauling two dead calves on her shoulders, Siesta made her way to Austri Court. Yay, familiar bonding time. Why don't they make themselves familiar with work for once? That irritating prayer about a "small meal" whenever they had breakfast popped into her mind.

Siesta sighed. Where ever did she get all this resentment of aristocrats from? She tolerated them perfectly fine before, but now, interaction with them was outright… disturbing. Annoying implied that was no moral element to it. 'Why did the useless eaters eat while the ordinary folk starved?' Before, that thought was only sarcastic, for example, 'Oh, look, they're praying in gratitude for their 'small meal'' but now it was pure resentment on fire.

There was something dangerous about ruminating while working. There was the fact that a blue dragon could yank the calves you were supposed to feed it out of your grip and then lick you a new one.

Siesta found herself lying on the ground. That dragon obviously had knocked her out by licking her; speaking of which, dragon saliva smelled as revolting as a noble's faeces.

* * *

Siesta stood up and scanned her surroundings. She was back in Tarbes or at least what appeared to be Tarbes. The mysterious absence of little children playing or livestock scurrying about made her suspect it was the latter.

Her suspicion that it was the latter was all but confirmed when she saw herself sitting on a chair before the town well, steaming kettle on the ground next to her foot, sipping a cup of…tea.

That was utterly ridiculous! Tea came from the Far East and as quasi-serfs; her family could not afford tea. It was those damned mages at work again, mocking her, mocking sweat, mocking blood and mocking tears again and again. With much fury, she found herself running on the dirt road to the well, fist primed, ready to strike that filthy shape-shifting no-good elitist son-of-a-bitch right in the face for the insult against her family, her whole kind, what was that word? Commoner was too broad, for it included the fools licked the fingers of the nobility like dogs did to masters, 'Third Estate' was a term she could not relate to and 'peasant' was just outright insulting. It was this puzzlement that stopped her in her tracks. There was also the song that her doppelganger was singing to consider.

"_Ouvriers, paysans, nous sommes_

_Le grand parti des travailleurs_

_La terre n'appartient qu'aux hommes_

_L'oisif ira loger ailleurs_

_Combien de nos chairs se repaissent_

_Mais si les corbeaux, les vautours_

_Un de ces matins disparaissent_

_Le soleil brillera toujours."_

Apparently, her doppelganger had sympathy with people like her, "Le grand parti des travailleurs" showing that this sympathy was neither condescending nor patronising. It was a sympathy born of camaraderie, of understanding their common plight. She had found the term for her kind. It was not 'peasant', it was not 'commoner', and it was not the 'Third Estate'. It was 'worker'.

Her presence did not escape the attention of the doppelganger, of whom she was just immediately behind.

"I suppose you want an explanation for my presence." The doppelganger continued to sip tea while stating this.

"Yes." That was Siesta's strongest possible voice. She rarely had ever used that and when she did it usually involved aristocrats groping her.

"Have a seat then." A chair appeared out of nowhere and Siesta obliged. You never railed against a mage. Doing do usually involved, blood, tears and a lot of stolen sweat.

"How do you like your tea?"

The question made her wonder. She had hardly ever drunk it and when she did, it was usually the dredges of one of the students that she used to infuse, never fresh leaves. Stingy little spiteful noble kids had a way of knowing everything you did. She would not risk her family's livelihood on a couple of tea leaves.

"Without milk or sugar, please." She did not want to share in that unnecessary pomp that mocked the stomachs of hungry commonerd, or rather, starving fellow _workers_ everywhere. She liked that word. Not only was it simple, it implied an importance that she saw was real in this world of manors and maids. If she didn't work, they would all starve.

"Tea is served." Again, another thing was conjured out of nowhere. This time, it was a tray with two slices of bread with a porcelain cup of tea to the side. Mages had it easy. They could cast gold from rocks, cups from dirt and life from water. The tea she was being served was a reminder of this ever-present fact of life.

"Now, onto the details; I cannot assume my true form in this world. I only appear to others as an image of themselves. That is all I can tell you and all that I know."

Siesta was not impressed. Why was Tarbes empty? Where were her parents? Why was did unfamiliar figure so polite to her?

"If you are thinking this is your home, hometown or whatever, please don't fret. This place is nothing more than a projection of your mind." The doppelganger before her simply sipped her tea, waiting for Siesta for talk before continuing.

"…"

"I'm terribly sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Zero and I presume you are Siesta de Tarbes. Nice to meet you." Name tags told a lot.

* * *

"You think I would want to join you after hearing that nonsense?"

Siesta was rather sceptical of the explanation and background this Zero had provided her. Supposedly, she (or it) had come to Halkeginia through one of the second-graders' summonings and now this familiar was theorising that somehow she had made it into her mind. The sheer thought of it seemed odd and the very fact that commoners could not wield magic and thus could not control (if containing meant controlling) familiars was a massive roadblock in the way of the possibility. There was a higher chance that the doppelganger before her was some wayward spirit unleashed upon her by one of the students (they had levitated her skirt more than once, so what was to prevent them from outright cursing her?) playing upon her hopes so that she would make obvious her anti-aristocratic sentiment and use them to blackmail her. The offer seemed too could to be true. 'Join the cause of Liberalism (which sounded like some fringe variety of peasant revolt) and make Halkeginia a place for commoners'. The brew that Zero had served her tasted nice, but the outlandish, silly, out-of-the-word world she described sounded more like a public house's yarn than anything else. Repeating muskets? Dragons of steel? Arrows which burnt down entire cities? It sounded as odd and bizarre as the tale about her grandfather her parents used to tell her as a child. A cause and tea used for recruiting was no good if its leader was mad.

"It's not that it's nonsense, it's just that you haven't seen it before."

"Whatever." Siesta was going to find a place out of this hullaballoo Wonderland ran by the mad doppelganger. She had work to do. It then occurred to her that no matter where she walked, she ended back at the well.

"I'm guessing you can't get out of here."

"Do you always say you're thinking of someone doing something even when it's obvious?"

"It's how I talk to people. I've been talking like this for three centuries. I can't help it. And if you're trying to get out here, I suggest you listen to me."

"What?"

"I can understand how frustrated you are with having to work so hard at so young an age as a maid." Siesta was not going to listen to any more of this poltergeist's mind tricks. Turning her back on her, Siesta proceed off into the distance…

…Only to return back again.

"You have to work so hard, just so you can meet the manorial levy. After that, you continue on, living for only the next day, not getting anywhere in your life." That appeal did not grasp her, for it could've applied to any commoner's life on average. Be born. Work. Get taxed. Have children with some lout. Die. Everyone knew that routine. Even the fairy tale recorders did. Hell, the banality of it was coming to a theatre near Tarbes.

"You would be content with that life, except for one thing." Maybe she may as well listen. Walking away from her would only lead her back to the well; there really was no point in ignoring someone who'd potentially know something about her.

"You are consistently annoyed by the fact that those noble schoolboys view you like a prostitute, a sack of pleasure to gawk and fantasise at as they please. They look at you and see only breasts and loins." How did she know that?

"How do you know that?" If that doppelganger were indeed a spirit cast upon her by one of the students, whoever did it would have some juicy blackmail material on her.

"The instant I arrived here, your mind was like an open library to me. I merely picked the books that you placed in the part you thought was unreachable." She point to Siesta's house. While Zero cherished privacy, he also cherished knowledge of the world around him and Siesta was just one source of it.

"Well then, could you get out please? I don't want anyone else to know my secrets."

"I can't."

"Can you get me out of here then?"

"There's no other way than to join the Cause."

"How do I know you're not a tool of one of those noble kids picking on me?"

"Remember that song I sand earlier? I'm on your side, Siesta."

* * *

"My name is Zero." The chanting had begun. In a matter of seconds, she would be back in reality, away from this strange copy of Tarbes which was an affront to Nature in the very way it mislead people.

"…Idea that is Just and that which protects the Weak…" It sounded like one of the mages' chants, but so long as she could get back on track, she couldn't really care.

"Indoctrinate this Civilian and let them join the Liberal Cause!" A light filled Siesta's presence, as she felt herself fade back into existence.

* * *

"Sorry." Zero found herself before a blue-haired girl and wherever you met blue-haired girls, you met forces of nature that could turn the world into Tang (or just plain shotgun gore, depending on which time period you lived in). 'The third Zero?' 'Rei Ayanami?' No, just someone who looked like her.

"No licking next time." The blue dragon next to the girl growled in disappointment. Licking could tell you a lot about other people.

"Have 50 écus for your trouble." The blunette promptly chucked a bag of coins before Zero and went off with her dragon.

'Sweet! Now I can pay bribes for the landlord.' The presence of her possessee was significantly more perceptible than it was with Louise. Maybe it was common ideals?

'_In an ideal world, you wouldn't have to pay bribes.'_ The disinterested statement made its way to Siesta.

'Wait! How the Hell am I hearing you?' Siesta thought the contract would get rid of the doppelganger; it had only woken her up from the dragon saliva.

'_I don't know, but the minute you agreed to that ritual, you made yourself a vessel for me.' _The feeling of dismay from Siesta was so strong that it pervaded Zero's being.

* * *

Tipsy, daisy. Tipsy, daisy. Austri Plaza was being served by a drunken maid. The female students thought it a scandal, but the male ones, Malicorne in particular, were trying to carve that sight into their memories for future reference.

When Siesta had grown from a little girl into a young woman, she had found her movements awkward and uncoordinated. Right now, she was experiencing that same incongruity with her body; it was puberty all over again. Therefore, it was of questionable judgement of her to be serving cheesecake to horndogs who might've thought her drunk and tried to have their ways with her. In defence of her judgement, the jobs was going to involve this sooner or later; the only question was whether or not it was going to spiral down into one of those odd venereal periodicals young noble men had under their beds.

'_Those leers are disgusting.'_ Commentary from Zero filled Siesta's mind.

"I have to deal with that on a daily basis!" Siesta responded out loud, not noticing the stares of puzzlement that came from the students. Drunk and crazy were good combinations for a fortnightly, carnal snippet, but in real life, it was just tragic.

The clumsiness that she was experiencing was in fact, neither due to alcohol nor a second puberty, but rather, due to the presence of Zero in her thoughts. Even when Zero was not thinking about movement, the interference it caused to Siesta was no great joke. It was an annoyance.

"Ah, Mister Gramont wants fruitcake. _Remember, Mr Gramont, you are what you eat_." Siesta placed a slice of fruitcake with her tongs onto the dandy's plate. A clearly disturbed Guiche the Gramont was gawking at the audacity of the maid. Insulting Guiche de Gramont had become a game for even commoners to play, but the direct attack on his masculinity was something altogether. Regardless, he had no time to flirt with maids or respond to them. The other boys could have her for all he cared; he wasn't so base so as to fall prey to raw physical features (although it had to be admitted that bosom looked nice on her).

'That wasn't necessary was it, Zero? The "you are what you eat part", I mean.' Siesta's body was not fully her own because of Zero and because of that, neither was her voice.

'_Of course not, it was merely a reflection on the dandy.'_

'Please refrain from making my body insult nobles in the future, Zero. I have parents to feed.'

'_Acknowledged, Siesta. By Jove, what is that awful smell?!'_

Siesta noticed that a pungent stench of dead flowers had filled the Plaza and by extension, her nostrils. The source of their olfactory despair came from a few mails (_'adopt the metric system for goodness' sake!_) behind Guiche, from a bag of a first year girl. The smell was so strong, that Guiche almost fainted, with a small bottle falling out of his pocket, under the table as he tried to retain consciousness by pressing on the table. Malicorne, being a glutton with an affinity for any kind of food, seemed curious why everyone in Austri Party was blocking their nostrils. Ignoring the pervasive odour that would've wrecked Siesta were it not for a lifetime dealing with cow pats, Siesta went to Guiche's table and placed the small bottle onto the top of the table.

"Hey, Guiche, is that Montmorency's perfume?" Malicorne always had a tendency of ruining everything. Guiche's current state of semi-consciousness was soon replaced by full lucidity as his preservation instincts went into work.

"No, not at all, hey, maid! That doesn't belong to me! Take it back. Oh, that smells awful!" The confusion at Guiche's table was starting to attract attention, possibly unwanted.

"Guiche, are you alright?" The first-year girl placed her hand on Guiche's shoulder as she placed the culinary terror on Guiche's table.

"_I think it's your soufflé that's killing him, care to spray Montmorency's fragrance onto it to get rid of the smell?" _Zero seized this opportunity to mock everyone for being the excessive extravagances that they were. Needless to say, Siesta was alarmed at the sheer lack of tact that he was demonstrating. It would ruin her!

'No more, Zero, just get to work, don't piss them off!' When you angered a noble, things tended to get out of hand.

Tears started streaming down the first-year's eyes. While Siesta walked off to continue with her duties, she could hear a slap, some crying and the tormented voice of a spurned man (or dandy, which was by far more the right term).

The palm print of a young girl, a lecture from Miss Chevreuse and having evil-smelling soufflé shoved into his face did not serve to enhance Guiche's day at all; thus, he took the only action.

"You cheap strumpet, look at what you've done!"

Had Siesta fully controlled her own body, she would've made it a priority to run away from the angry blonde. Angry little noble children were spiteful little vampires whenever things didn't go their way. Spoilt brats. _Bitches_ they could be said to be, even the male ones.

Ignoring Siesta's protests, Zero turned around.

"_What __**have**__ I done?" _ This place was a freak show and Zero was enjoying every moment of it; it reminded her of the Crack House with the transients and crack heads who sung incoherently as if invoking some divine saviour to give them deliverance.

"You've made my dear Catherine, cry, that's what you have done!"

"_I think it was more the fact that you weren't willing to carefully hide that perfume in your pocket in the first place. If you're double dating, you should've been smart enough to think about being discreet."_

"**WHY YOU!" **Guiche de Gramont was fuming; this was a different thing altogether; while annoyed nobles were one thing, angry aristocrats that wanted to use you as a punching bag were a completely different thin altogether.

"**DUEL. HERE. NOW."**

"_Fine by me, fruitcake."_

* * *

It was usually Tabitha who would be seen walking around while reading a book. However, a certain strawberry blonde had had the sweetest day of her life since her fiancé had reassured her on her potential as a mage. The manual on Inner Familiars was abound with information.

'Wardes.' Louise began to proceed to Austri Plaza, where tea would be served, when she noticed a sharp pain in her head.

* * *

She was back there again, back on the chaise longue in the room of that terrifying familiar who she could help but feel ambivalent towards. Sure, it had allowed her to have some degree of magic, but what were its ulterior motives? The moment she thought of that, speaking of the devil, Zero had appeared in front of her, bearing the same form as her (albeit more flittering and transparent than it was last time in her 'dream').

"I have a favour to ask of you, Louise."

Louise simply looked at her doppelganger. That was her familiar, may as well get used to its antics. No point showing any fear.

"There is a duel currently happening in Austri Plaza. I request of you that you make sure no-one interferes."

"And why should I do that, familiar?"

"Because I can explain why you could transmute those pebbles this morning." That promise alone, was enough.

* * *

Finding herself back in the real world once again, Louise reoriented herself. 'Ensure no-one interfered with the duel', was the sole thought on her mind. The morning had shown her her true potential and for all the pride she could have, she could not deny the fact that that being of pure, form-copying malice had something to do with it; she had never been able to properly cast a spell before and the fact that she did in Miss Chevreuse's class spoke volumes about that familiar – familiars enhanced their contractors and to have gained the ability to do proper magic from the bond formed between him (she had seen its true form) and her meant that her familiar was very significant despite its incorporeality.

As she finally finished her sprinting rush to Austri Court, she could see a most mind-boggling sight; a commoner, that maid from earlier, stood before a mage – Guiche, more precisely (who knew the antics he could get up to in his chase for skirts) – as if she was ready to duel him; such sights were always either a comedy scene or the prelude to a very bad mess as chances were, if the commoner did not have a pistol (generally, multiple pistols, with a godlike aiming at that), the mage would win and in their triumph be very cruel. The two were flanked by an audience, out of which, Louise could distinguish Montmorency; perhaps Guiche was desperate enough to make advances on the maid and then decided to shrug her off, with much futility, when Montmorency came along? The facts would show themselves soon enough, but she probably would have to look out of Montmorency; everybody knew her longing for Guiche despite all her pseudo-spurning of him.

Then began the parade of pride and the inevitable fall.

"Whorish strumpet, you should've known from the very beginning that is not a good idea to enrage an aristocrat." A mean smile on Guiche's face reflected the cocky nature that was intrinsic to him.

"I'm very surprised that you haven't fled yet or more appropriately, kneeled down before me in apology." The maid seemed remarkably calm despite the taunts; the face reminded Louise of her mother, and speaking of faces, she thought that the maid usually had a gentler, softer visage than that stare of steel she now bore.

"Not acting yet? Well, I guess your sort is just a cowardly bunch of parasites that feed off the land." Louise would've expected that rather sharp taunt to enrage the commoner; peasants weren't that well known for composure – but in spite for all the taunts, the maid was deadly still in her pugilistic stance. If Louise were a commoner, she certainly would've lunged for Guiche's throat.

"I'm guessing I'm getting the honour of the first strike then?"

The maid did not respond.

"A cheap seductress and a mute! What is the world coming to? Very well, I shall take the honour." Everyone knew about Guiche's Valkyries – the last time Malicorne had went after Montmorency, it had become a popular yarn that the only girl he'd be in the arms of would be one of those golems – that and it would never be an affair.

A rose petal fell from Guiche's wand and as per usual to anyone who had seen Guiche the Bronze exercise his magical faculties, a Valkyrie armed with a truncheon appeared. Guiche apparently, was not in the best of moods – whenever that happened, any dalliances he was involved in much more skin contact than usual, _almost_ to the extent of outright fornication; the key word was 'almost' however – he didn't have a reputation as strong as Kirche's (Louise never knew if the bragging third-year boys were telling their friends the truth). Then again, the sight of him passionately snogging a first-year was not exactly an image of discipline (or noble propriety). Maybe his relations with the maid were part of a reversal in this cycle?

Whenever a mage had the sheer brutality to even summon a golem, everyone knew what happened – either the commoner would soil themselves, surrender and apologise, or get smashed into half-paste; seeing as the maid did not yield, Guiche took the other option. He commanded his Valkyrie to charge…

In retrospect, bashing up a random domestic servant was not the ideal way to relieve stress. Just before the Valkyrie had rammed into the maid, a very commanding voice, rivalling that of her mothers had rippled from the made, with the Valkyrie immediately stopping like a soldier before a captain.

"_Valkyria, why do you insist on obeying such a weak knave?"_ The crowd gasped with wonderment at the sudden arrest of the Valkyrie. Was Guiche secretly an incompetent mage all along, similar to how Louise had hidden Triangle-level transmutation magic or was the maid secretly a mage? The wish for an answer could be felt.

"W-W-What is this?" Waving his wand, Guiche tried to regain control of his Valkyrie – this golem casting had never failed him before. Theoretically, hijacking another mage's golem was possible, but that was very high-level magic; even if the commoner was secretly a mage, years of disguise probably should've ate away their magic to prevent Square-level development – he could not comprehend the current occurrence.

"_Valkyria, through all of you and your many sisters' existences, I believe you have all commonly experienced one thing."_ The maid, evidently named Siesta, according to Tabitha, stated this with a judge's finality. If you wanted to attack Guiche, you'd call him a dandy. If you wanted to destroy Guiche on the other hand…

"_Under the service of that _'man'_"_ what appeared to be Siesta snorted in sarcasm, _"and I say that only because he calls himself that, you have been treated no more than objects of the male gaze."_ The lone Valkyrie cocked its head, as if in consideration.

"_Throughout your hundreds lives, all that he has ever treated you with, was the contempt of a predatory groom on an unknowing prospective wife. You have been but a means to an end. All the contests, all the praise, all the acknowledgement, they had been all lies." _The damning observation made the Valkyrie tighten the hold on the truncheon's grip.

"_From the very first moment he called upon your kind, they have been as nought but trophy wives, to be paraded throughout the street as the vindication of some effeminate's title."_ The Valkyrie was growing ever tenser, as if a wife was learning about her husband sleeping with someone else. It could be seen that Guiche was trying to dissuade the Valkyrie from listening to the maid, to no avail.

"_It is not titles that honour men, but men that honour titles. Therefore, Valkyria, realising that Guiche de Gramont is neither a true man nor 'the Bronze', join me."_

Upon that final statement, the Valkyrie nodded to Siesta, as if in declaring fealty, and suddenly turned towards Guiche. A slow, menacing walk, the prowl of a cat before a mouse began, Guiche being driven back by the incredible amount of fear he felt.

Seeing the incredible distress Guiche was in, Montmorency positioned herself between the Valkyrie and Guiche, only to be suddenly levitated away to the other side.

"No-one interfere in the duel! This is between Guiche and the commoner only; I'll burn you if mess around!" A Louise would a very harsh voice drove back a worried Reynald. While the vast majority were spectators, some were beginning to become concerned for Guiche de Gramont's welfare. Having seen what Louise had done earlier with those pebbels, they obliged.

"_Valkyria! Bind him to that chair!"_ And thus, a five minute re-education had begun.

* * *

"_Mr Gramont. Earlier, you tried to say that I was lying about that vial of perfume from Montmorency, did you not?"_

Unsure of how to respond, Guiche did not answer. A blow from the irate Valkyrie changed his mind, making him squeal out "Yes!" from his gag and nod his head. 3 teeth.

"_So, Mr Gramont, you believed that you have the right to deny me of reality?"_ Thinking he knew what would happen if he didn't answer, another affirmative squeak came and in response, another 3 teeth.

"_So, if an aristocrat forced his subjects to acknowledge 2 plus 2 was equal to 5, they would have to acknowledge it despite all reasons saying otherwise?"_ Guiche thought it a ridiculous question; since when was Halkeginia created could 2+2=5? The questions puzzled him… and the answer to his hesitation was 4 teeth.

"_What I'm asking you is that if an aristocrat required that his subjects acknowledge that 2 plus 2 is equal to five, they would have to acknowledge it on pain of death, wouldn't they?" _Guiche nodded and screamed through the gag more. Montmorency's protests would've been heard it if weren't for the sound-blocking ward imposed upon her by Louise de la Vallière. The other students neutrally viewed onwards, as if voyeurs staring at the suffering of a deer being ripped alive.

"_So now that I have virtual control over you, is two plus two equal to five?" _Many more teeth would come out for Guiche's poorly chosen answer."

* * *

_**Night-time**_

"We shall abolish the orgasm. Our neurologists are at work upon it now. There will be no loyalty, except loyalty towards the Party. There will be no love, except the love of Big Brother." For all it authoritarian undertones, if there was any quotation that could encapsulate the current state of Guiche de Gramont, it would be that. Sprawled across the hay in the corner, the exhausted, sleeping body of Guiche de Gramont laid on his chest. It was in this now-foreign yet once-familiar bedroom that Louise de la Vallière was beginning to find the answer to her questions.

* * *

_"That is the Power of Heart." _The form of Gramont (actually Zero) was beside her as he sipped tea in her room._  
_

"Heart?"

_"It is believing in something."_

Hoping to become a better mage, Louise asked, "Believing in what?"

_"The Idea I showed you."_

"Liberalism?"

_"Yes." _

Louise hesitated. She did not fully know whether she wanted to follow the path Zero had shown her. It was paved in blood. Conflicted, she shed a tear. She no longer had any serious belief in what she had been taught about society when she was young. Her experiences told her to trust her doubt. But she wasn't willing to kill.

* * *

_"Change Halkeginia as I see fit."_

* * *

That earlier explanation had chilled her to the bones. She could be anything she wanted; as long as he gave her the right to that power. Louise de la Vallière did not sleep that night, for she considered very carefully, the implications of _maintaining_ her right to that power.

* * *

Profile #01

Name: Siesta de Tarbes (partially possessed by Zero)

Profession: Maid, Political Activist

Age: Mentally 357 years, born 2143 AD. Physically 17, born 6222 Halkeginian.

Gender/Sex: It's complicated. As with sex, female.

Hair and eye colour: Black and cobalt blue

Blood Type: O

Bust:B

Earth Juice: 1000 (Elite Liberal)

Halkeginian Juice: 85 (Commoner Threat)

Heart: Infinite

Intelligence: 519

Wisdom: 750 due to high casualties under leadership.

Health: 15

Agility: 3

Strength: 9

Charisma: 11

Base Magic: 5 (Medium Line-level)

Siesta de Tarbes under the influence of Zero. Unlike Liberal Louise, Siesta still maintains some degree of consciousness while under Zero's influence. Zero's influence grants her significant amounts of intelligence and even provides her magic, at a cost; her body is not completely her own, leading to clumsiness and a tendency to break dishes no matter how carefully they're stacked.

Profile #02 (Preview)

Name: Guiche de Gramont (Unpossessed but brainwashed)

Profession: Butler, spy

Age: 17, born 6222 or 6223 Halkeginian.

Gender/Sex: Male.

Hair and eye colour: Blonde, turquoise

Blood Type: AB+

Earth Juice: -40 (Damn Useless)

Halkeginian Juice: 0 (Peasant)

Heart: 6

Intelligence: 10

Wisdom: 5

Health: 5

Agility: 10

Strength: 10

Charisma: 6 (Broken teeth aren't that attractive)

Base Magic: 3 (High dot level)

What happens when you take a rose and cut out all the thorns and kill all the petals. Reduced to a mind-slave by Zero, although it doesn't seem like it, Guiche serves a role; laundry and being Zero's host. Considerably more forward than before he met Zero. Dentures are made out of gold. His change in behaviour is has not gone unnoticed.

* * *

Read, **follow _(NOT JUST FAVOURITE)_** and review. **_It keeps me going._** Plus, I double chapter word length every chapter.


	4. Explosion 3 - Three ways to gain Juice

**Triple Zero**

* * *

Disclaimer: "Familiar of Zero" belongs to a dead guy. "Liberal Crime Squad" belongs to Bay12 Games. I own the plot. Furthermore, don't take the political language and themes in here to heart and become a terrorist like Zero. It would be a shame if an influential cable news network personality died violently.

A/N: Rest in peace Mikhail Kalashnikov. Your liberal gift to the world is your legacy to us.

A/N: My spelling is dodgy. I try to fix it. This is a fic in progress, with double the amount of words per subsequent chapter and I would like you to judge my writing based on the style I establish rather than my spelling. When this fic is finished, I will correct small errors. In the meantime, remember, it is your reading, reviewing and _**following**_ _**(NOT FAVOURITING)**_ of my fanfic that drives me on. Thank you for your support so far. I've hadn't experienced this much moral support since 2008.

A/N: Almost never detailed in the other fanfics is what happened during the three days (when Saito was knocked out by the Valkyries) if another character replaced him and doesn't get knocked out. This is my take on it.

* * *

**Triple Zero**

_Explosion 3 – Three Ways to Gain Juice_

As the sun rose, Louise de la Vallière began to emerge from that semi-sleep that insomniacs and necessarily vigilant sentries (like Zero was herself once) knew too well. The Halkeginian sun rose, its rays piercing the window of Louise's bedroom to bath her face in its bright sunlight. As a yawn rocked her, she sat up, to see a most unsettling sight.

A voice with the lisp of an old man said, "Good Morning, Mistress Vallière. How may I please you?" On her bed was Guiche de Gramont, a smile of content (albeit a toothless one) fixed on his face, a bare rose stem between his gums. That was not disturbing in itself; she did not mind being woken early, regardless if it was by that maid Siesta or by the redheaded pest, who'd usually flaunt her bosom in front of her after Louise had risen. What disturbed her, rather, was the fact that Guiche de Gramont was stark naked, neck to loin and that he was **on** her bed, rather than in **front** of it. Tilting her head to her right, she could see the scattered clothing that should've been on Guiche. While Guiche certainly was an eye-catch, Louise held no attraction towards the playboy; furthermore, she intended to save herself for marriage. Guiche's lack of clothing and her being in her nightgown made her cringe-metre go break its scale.

Louise felt her consciousness fade away, like a bird becoming less visible the higher it flew. The next thing she knew, Guiche was (thankfully) standing before her bed, fully clothed in that frilled chemise of his. That was a far better image than his unclothed form.

"So, Mistress Vallière, how may I serve you?" Louise noticing the difference in diction and (obviously) attire felt a little more comfortable in her newfound servant's presence and delivered a simple instruction.

"Get me some breakfast." Guiche obliged, bowing in acknowledgement before exiting the room in that ubiquitous strut of his.

The explanation that Zero had given her the day before simply wasn't enough. She wanted to know why and how, that Guiche, of all people, had been crushed into a boy-toy, one without teeth, no less.

* * *

In the Tristanian Academy of Magic, a most curious thing had happened. Yesterday, a young noble of the name of Guiche de Gramont had 'challenged a commoner to a duel', which was usually effectively a euphemism for beating the living daylights out of a non-mage when you were angry. The expected outcome, a dead or injured commoner, did not come to transpire. Rather, the Academy had become witness to a most unusual turn of events; the mage was beaten up and his present lack of teeth would strongly suggest to anyone who passed by him that he had some horrible impact to the face that knocked them out. This was very true, however, 'impact', as a word would suggest that it was an accident. It was no 'accident'; it was outright torture. But for Guiche de Gramont, it was nothing more than enlightenment. Clichéd as it might sound (though in his defence, Guiche was a man of clichés) he had been shown the light. His arrogance needed to be wiped out of his soul, just as his rose had been plucked clean of its useless petals. He loved Zero, but he was not worthy of her and therefore he deserved to die, but Zero loved him and wouldn't let him die. Therefore, he would live for Zero.

"Guiche!" It was that voice; the voice of Montmorency. Montmorency, Montmorency. He knew that name; it was the name of Montmorency the Fragrance, who smelt so much like beautiful roses in bloom. Alas, Guiche de Gramont had no time for beauty. Love was a means to an end; it was never supposed to be an end to itself. Zero had shown him much. The foolishness of engaging in multiple dalliances to find meaning in his life could not be overstated. Zero had shown him the way.

"Guiche!" The yell behind him became louder. He could hear the footsteps more frequently (which indicated that Montmorency was beginning to run towards him). He would've continued to the kitchen, were it not for the seizure of his right arm by her.

"Guiche! Where were you?" To no small extent, Montmorency clinging to his arm was… he could not find the word appropriate to describe it… 'incongruous'? Had he not previously confided in Montmorency? 'Uninteresting' would shirk his newfound loyalty to Zero. 'Unwanted' would betray his sense of reality. 'Annoying', was just as emotionally untrue. Did he feel 'love' for Montmorency? No, 'love' was exclusive for Zero alone. Was it 'lust' then? But Guiche longed for more than Montmorency's flesh, he wanted her soul. He had always wanted to be with her in that way, yet he never managed to spit it out; He never risked those rare chances of complete moonlightlessness to sneak to her room and consummate their blossoming love, the highest, most outstanding rose in his garden of roses. A small part of him, that ancient pride that was his and his alone, protested against resisting Montmorency. But he managed, for he had a task to complete.

"Please don't distract me, Montmorency."

It was not those words which scraped against Montmorency, nor the lisp born of an injury evident in them. Rather, the hurt was driven into her by the almost casual way Guiche shook her off, like an unwanted insect. There was not that much force in them, but the impact she felt was just as hard. Never before had Guiche simply dismissed her; they had their hard times, here and there, but if Montmorency held onto Guiche, he knew that there was something important; he would have not just push her away like that. It was therefore, a huge shock for Montmorency. The sight of Montmorency on the floor while Guiche was walking away was beginning to attract attention, especially that of Malicorne's (why was he so always conveniently present in the most inconvenient of situations?).

Montmorency knew that stupid duel with the commoner yesterday had something to do with it. But for now, tears began to flood her eyes, as the morning crowd on their way to breakfast began to grow. Her crying did not go unnoticed. In particular, a certain Charlotte d'Orleans reading and walking glanced at the distraught Montmorency.

'Unusual', was the thought that passed through her mind. Even if it were an understatement, it did enough to describe Guiche de Gramont pushing away Montmorency.

* * *

Walk around the school. Ignore stares. Collect laundry outside rooms. Ignore stares. Discreetly knock on the doors of those students who had forgotten to place their laundry outside. If they weren't present, get the key for that room. Ignore stares. Go to the washing shed. Ignore stares. Wring the water out of clothing. Ignore stares. Dry the clothing. Ignore stares. Collect in into a basket. Ignore stares. Return the laundry to those who owned it. Ignore stares. Repeat. Ignore stares.

This was what Siesta de Tarbes' routine could be described as being like ever since Zero possessed her body and 'self-defenced' Guiche de Gramont. From the timid maid's viewpoint, that was completely unnecessary; like rodents and ants, commoners usually would escape harassment by nobles by being too insignificant to notice and if they were noticed, they usually apologised or scurried away. That was not what Zero did and because of this, all eyes were on her. Even the rest of the school's service staff avoided talking to her unless it was necessary; agitators were not exactly good for "the rest" of the commoners.

Siesta considered Zero's behaviour a bit excessive. Zero had taunted a noble in a bad-mood; a big, fat, red no-no. Then she had taken the liberty of accepting the challenge from the angry dandy. Another no-no if you were a sane commoner. The biggest no-no of all was that Zero had tortured Guiche with his own Valkyries; being a commoner had its disadvantages, with all the hard work and potential for molestation by one of those degenerate (Siesta was surprised at how her thinking was changing after meeting Zero) swine, but being an noble or even appearing like one (as she did with her manipulation of the Valkyrie) was another thing altogether; there was always the potential of being killed by another noble who didn't even know you because they viewed you as a threat to their local power. Indeed, the Academy, in its early years, had the reputation of being the most dangerous place to be served food due to all the poisoning and intrigues that had taken place as a result of having too many nobles near together. It was better to be a small blade of grass unnoticed, than a grand tree begging to be chopped down.

Deep in thought, it took the sight of Guiche de Gramont's being in front of Miss Vallière's doorway to notice that she passed by Miss Zerbst's room, where she was supposed to place this particular pile of laundry, so she turned back and went, with laundry in hand, to open Miss Zerbst's door. She was greeted by a bosom that dwarfed her own, belonging to a very tanned young woman, with a smile of content (it looked like the smile that came with an afterglow after love-making, by the Gods, how she know that?) on her face.

"Ah, excuse me." Siesta made the curt statement, and Kirche stepped aside to allow Siesta to place down her laundry. Even Kirche was curious as to why Guiche de Gramont had headed into Louise de la Vallière's room. The thought of anyone (aside from Malicorne, who had revealed to the whole world his arguably quasi-paedophilic attraction to washboard chests the day before) dallying with Louise de la Vallière was one you would encounter in either a nightmare (Montmorency had told Kirche her bedwetting had returned a year earlier because of that) or in a joke that was told half to death whenever there was lunch in Austri Plaza. In reality, boys who had made advances because of those legs (of which Kirche was extremely jealous of, to say the least) often found themselves kicked by them, in the groin no less, even when Louise responded _nicely_ with those terrible courting lines every little aristocrat girl had drilled into them at home. Evidently, those lines hadn't been drilled the belief in 'cooties' out of her. It was easy to see why wooing Vallière would be seen as a sign of madness.

…And discussing madness, after the maid had left Kirche's room, Kirche noticed that the maid was also going to Vallière's room. Honestly, she had her fair share of affairs, but they never progressed beyond simple fondling and kissing. The sheer thought of Louise de la Vallière sleeping in and skipping breakfast to have a threesome was beyond comedy material; it was close to blasphemy, to being taken by an elf.

* * *

The smell of a freshly baked bread roll was always a refreshing one, regardless of whether or not you were floating in a state between sleep and consciousness. Louise de la Vallière was one such person knowing the beautiful smell of bread as it wafted through the air in her room from a tray in the doorway, held by Guiche de Gramont like a butler on her estate. If that sight was not considered in light of what had happened the day before, one could've mistakenly thought that Guiche de Gramont had captivated yet another young girl. However, he was nought but a butler and came to Louise to place the tray of bread on her blanket-covered lap. Breakfast in bed was one way to get rid that horrible state of mental languidness. So it was with much satisfaction that Louise de la Vallière picked up a roll of bread…

… and the next thing she knew, the roll of bread had fallen onto the edge of the tray, barely still on it, and Guiche de Gramont was kissing her on the back of her left hand. So she did the only logical thing to do to such a pervert; slap him on the face…

…or at least attempt to. Just as her palm was about to meet Guiche de Gramont's face, he had deftly seized her wrist.

"_This isn't some cheap flea-market harem romantic comedy novella if you think slapping an adolescent boy in the face repeatedly is going to make him fall in love with you."_ Louise was about to respond in her usual incendiary half-pint way, but then she realised; that voice was not that of Guiche's. It was more _commanding_ and _serious_.

"…Zero?" Louise curiously chirped.

"_Yes. Living inside of your mind is intolerable; it smells of hopelessness and inadequacy so bad, that moving into Guiche's body by having him kiss those carvings on your left hand still doesn't get rid of the stench."_

Louise looked at her left hand; how she didn't even notice the familiar runes couldn't have been easily explained, were it not for the confusion of the last several days. Those were familiar runes. Whatever they stood for was irrelevant, because the fact was, as a summoner she had familiar runes on her left hand. That was an insult to top the injury that was her less-than-fulfilling existence as an incompetent mage.

"Excuse me, Mr Gramont, am I interfering with your… interaction… with Miss Vallière?" The voice, laden with extreme amounts of anxiety and a tinge of embarrassment, came from a maid by the doorway. Evidently, Siesta was confusing Zero possessing Guiche with Guiche himself. That was a good sign; if your allies did not know you, your enemies probably wouldn't either.

"_Not at all, Siesta. In fact, come in and close the door."_

Oh dear, orgy-porgy. Well, Siesta knew the liabilities of being a maid. One minute a student asked for a cup of tea and the next he asked for your thigh. Though it had never happened to her before and nominally that kind of behaviour was probably against royal edict, a noble was a noble and they were going to do whatever they wanted to commoners. There was no need to further antagonise the aristocracy after the incident in Austri Plaza. She would acquiesce.

"I'm not going to be part of your orgy, Mr Gramont." Zero had taught her to take a stand and she would not subject herself to any degradation, for to do once would be to do it forever, or until she got pregnant and ejected from the school premises. Even if she didn't have that power from earlier, she would take a stand.

An expression of dismay and disbelief immediately began to contort itself onto Guiche's (to be honest, the body didn't belong to Zero) face. Apparently, the toxic society he had landed himself in by jumping off the balcony was more than afflicted by scumbags practicing droit de cuissage; it had worked its way so thoroughly into the linguistics of the world that to even request a domestic worker come into a room and close the door implied that copulation was an intention.

"_I never said anything about an orgy, _ouvrier."

That was _that_ word that dispelled her misunderstanding. There was only one person who had ever called her by such a name, neither condescending in its pity nor outright contemptuous. So Siesta stepped forward into the room, pushing the door close.

"Zero?"

"Who are you calling Zero, you useless..." Just as Louise was about to finish her verbal attack on Siesta, a palm print made itself at home on Louise's face.

"_Shut up."_ The short and vicious response that would've made Sean Connery proud a million times over was Zero's answer to the petite's wasteful chatter. He had no time for stupidity or fun for that matter and the Liberal Crime Squad of Halkeginia would have to learn that fast.

"You hit me!" A shocked and flushed (though not flustered) Louise, hands shaking, stared at Zero.

"_What is your point, Louise de la Vallière?"_ If subordinates behaved uncooperatively, it was usually in your best interests to know what they were mewling over, even if they frustrated you to no end.

"Not even my own mother hit me!" Well, that sounded awfully familiar to the line by Amuro Ray from 'Gundam' (and speaking of 'Gundam', Zero wondered if his own existence was fictional. Though it was a joke of a possibility, it was an entertaining one, nonetheless). Louise wasn't going to have mysterious powers awaken in her soon enough, would she? That slap wouldn't turn her into a badass half a year later, would it? Bah, knowledge of literature could make you think of all sorts of things that would never happen.

"_I'm not your mother and if you're not going to behave yourself, you'll stay worthless. Let's go, Siesta." _Zero turned away from Louise and _marched_ (the gait was that of a highly motivated person, creating a triangular shape with the ground) away, Siesta trailing him.

"Wait!"

Louise's pleas were not heard. Siesta and Zero were simply too fast.

* * *

"What are we going to do now?" Siesta's curiosity on what would be Zero's next actions overrode any sense of discomfort she would've gained as a result of being stared at by over 600 or so eyes. To the students, it would've seemed as if Guiche was leading his mistress somewhere; fortunately, for both Siesta and the Cause, that was not the case. Zero was fine with them having their own realities; his cause of action did not involve carnal trivialities, but it was convenient for them to be thought of such.

"_We eat."_ The first step to gaining confidence as a member of the cause was to be recognised; you had to be credible in order to serve it; a prostitute, being a subordinate, could never be credible and the lecherous wrongthinking slavering (both meanings could apply) sexualisation of domestic service mirrored the oppression of a procurer over 'his girls'. Maybe he was exaggerating the similarities; then again, anyone would've if they've been forced into a completely different world with no other cases to make parallels to.

"Where?" Of course, Siesta knew the question was redundant, as commoners either ate in the kitchens or on the floor, but she asked out of courtesy, nonetheless.

"_In the Hall, or course."_ Upon finishing his sentence, Zero noticed that Siesta had stopped. Turning, a look of hesitation could be seen of Siesta's face.

"_You've already beaten up a noble, there's surely, eating in the Hall isn't going to cause that much of a trouble?" _Though the possibility of early modern class-based segregation etiquette seemed very real, surely, eating alongside your 'betters' wouldn't cause that much trouble Zero hoped. He needed some equivalent to civil disobedience – edgy but not infuriating.

"It's just I'm wondering why I've decided to join you in the first place. I could've stayed being just a maid and having a job…" Siesta paused. "But, something told me to join you. That's the only reason why I'm following you."

Ah, the good old doubts in what you were fighting for.

Approaching Siesta, Zero placed his both hands on her shoulders, as if he were a mentor reassuring their apprentice or as others around him saw it, a beau comforting his female lover. The gasps and chatter around him made clear their strange behaviour was considered scandalous by some. The thought of Guiche chasing after commoner girls was now more than Austri comedy material; to them, it was now a very real possibility.

"Guiche is chasing a commoner!"

"I'd suspicions he had no standards the moment he kissed Katie in public."

Looking around at the coalescing crowd, Zero knew that they were attracting attention.

"What are you fighting for, Siesta?" Siesta glanced up at Zero's (or as it appeared to other people, Guiche's) eyes. Those were eyes of iron. Eyes were windows to the soul and those eyes, though they looked normal, seemed to Siesta to be the windows of a soul that knew much. So, unmoving, she listened to Zero, hands still on her shoulders.

Zero's head reached her left ear and his voice relayed a simple message.

* * *

As was usual for any person who hadn't had a good night's sleep, Louise de la Vallière was still very hungry despite the rolls of bread Zero had given her. Speaking of which, she needed to make clear to him that she was the summoner and he was the familiar. There was no way that he was going to get away with slapping her on the face and Louise would see to it that he would starve for his rudeness.

…And speaking of starvation, there she was, in her corridor, still wearing thin lace nightgown and Malicorne de Grandplé had the audacity to turn into her corridor.

"Excuse me, Vallière have you seen…"

A high pitched scream and the slam of a door rocked the dormitories, but then again, if a tree fell in a forest, did anyone hear it?

"I was only asking if you saw Guiche." Screw it, he had better things to eat than nonsense and rumours caused by Vallière. A drumstick or two of chicken would shut up any disturbing and disconcerting thoughts. That, and the annoyance at being called a fat pervert paedophile by his fellow classmates after the Remote Vision incident in Basic Elements; he only wanted to know why her breasts were a different size when she cast a fireball at him two days ago.

* * *

Verdandi was somewhat troubled. Her master had not called upon her for at least half a day. In fact, she had noticed that the connection between her and master had severed a while ago. His presence had a distinctive quality in it; if he _was_, then she would be able to sense his existence. If he _was not_, then the absence of his aura would be quite noticeable, as it was right now. She wanted Master to come back.

There was always the possibility she was worrying far too much; after all, on the day before, Master did tell her to go digging for reagents; maybe he temporarily shut the connection in order allow her to concentrate. Human thoughts were always so strange in their content. There was no digging, yet there still was work; humans were a contradiction!

Placing her worries aside, Verdandi continued on. Master would be proud. She already had a whole paw's worth of écus and a diamond. That would make Master's mate happy and thus that would make Master himself happy, making her happy.

* * *

All eyes were on Siesta and Guiche, particularly Siesta. The neurotic glances and distinct chatter of an offended society pervaded Alviss Hall, but that did not matter to the maid who was gladly enjoying the fruits of her labour alongside Guiche (or Zero, to those in the know, virtually no-one in the Hall).

The causes of their shock were obvious to Zero. Even though he had only been on Halkeginia for less than sixty hours, he was beginning to fully grasp the dynamics of this new (or old, if you viewed it from a historian's perspective, although 25th Century America was practically indistinguishable from 18th Century Tsarist Russia save the fancier thingamajigs and the use of English instead of Russian and the worship Reagan as a god) society. It was analogous to a highly stratified early modern society on Earth; though he had yet to see the economic side of this society, the emergence of consciousness and literacy among commoners clearly pointed away from this particular one being a fully feudal one; the written list of chores that Siesta had had told him that much, alongside her complaints of the occasional noble acting above the law (the rage against unjustified privilege was common to every emerging (relatively) independent agrarian class). Significant (but seemingly restricted, suggesting mercantilism at work) trade with their equivalent of the Far East existed, as the distinctive smell of jasmine tea had told him when he fed Vallière earlier. The books he had seen had regular font instead of manuscript. The fact that knights were in historical fiction here spoke to him the fact that was not a mirror of Medieval Europe; rather, it was one of Early Modern Europe. Gigantic civil conflict in the middle of the continent compromising the authority of the Emperor? Check. Commoners with intermediate literacy and numeracy? Check. French (or Gallic as it was known here) as the lingua-franca, with a maid having a name in Spanish insinuating (albeit very weakly, since the Crown Princess of this land was named 'Henrietta', an English (or in this world 'Albionic') name) that he was in some parody of the Spanish Netherlands? Check. Maybe this world was fictional and was the result of a Japanese (and speaking of Japan, getting nuked more than twice tended to make your population more eccentric than eccentric) middle-aged man with too much time on his hands? Then again, the idea of talking to laboratory monstrosities through the Power of Heart and becoming a more intellectual and agile person through political violence and murder were as equally unrealistic.

Reflecting on his sociological tirade, Zero noticed that it stank awfully of postmodernism. Disgusting!

Back to the matter at hand, the students around Siesta had faces of outright dismay. The comedy value of people reacting so dramatically to a maid merely eating a slice of bread and some chicken was higher than the memory of him torturing a CEO until they started barking like a dog. Of course, you had to consider the context of the times; this was like Rosa Parks staying in her seat to them all (to be fair, no park of tables were allocated to commoners). The act of a commoner eating at the same table as them was insulting to them; they considered it an attack on their status. Therein laid the tragedy; their reliance on their birth statuses existed so they could give their lives some semblance of meaning; wealth and power made the person before effort and industry did. Destiny was the masters of their lives, for their worth was judged via the natal lottery. Perhaps he was overanalysing it. Perhaps he was overacting by encouraging Siesta to agitate everyone. But then again, the first step to success was action. In a world where nobody cared for justice or equality, caring was often the first act of rebellion anyone made. What better way to show everyone you cared by showing them you cared for yourselves and not social mores? Civil disobedience was the perfect opening to show this new world what liberalism was made of. It was not as destabilising as urban guerrilla and it made more of an impact than volunteering. It had enough moral strength to crack learned Conservatism, yet was soft enough not to kill anyone and cause unnecessary attention; he did not need that in a world he had been in for less than a week.

His stream of contemplation was abruptly interrupted by the instantly recognisable voice of Malicorne. Malicorne de Grandplé. From what he had garnered, Grandplé fit the stereotype of being 'fat and friendly' well and was a close friend with Guiche. That was until recently, when he was outed staring at Louise's chest. Not exactly the best way to have your reputation ruined.

"Guiche! I've been looking for you. What did we have to bring to class today?"

Dammit! He had no answers. Apparently, possessing the body of a re-educated didn't allow you to contact the original owner. He wouldn't have minded learning about it; it was that he now had to learn the hard way, when it could break his disguise.

"…And what's that commoner doing next to you?"

One, two, three, four, I declare a class war! Five, six, seven, eight, time to goad and time to hate! This was the beauty of civil disobedience! You were never the aggressor. Others would torment you. Some would hurt you but regardless of whether or not you were armed or not, you never started it, though in the case of a threat of violence, the ideal action was scaring them away, or better, beating them up. A successful civil action was one that was always bound you vindicate you and make other see the righteousness of your cause.

Rudely interrupted from her soup, Siesta raised her head from the bowl she was slurping from (the first rule of civil disobedience was to always make a racket) and turned her face directly to Malicorne.

"I'm eating." Siesta noticed a strange force in her heart that pushed her on. There would be results from eating in Alviss Hall on the tables and her heart was confirming her belief.

"Commoners aren't supposed to eat at the same table as, eh… aristocats, that's the term, yes?" Apparently, Malicorne was also a bit of an illiterate. Although he wasn't that pushy compared to the others, his boorishness had a repellent quality all its own.

"_I personally, don't mind Miss Tarbes' presence, Malicorne. And for your vocabulary's sake, it's 'aristocrat'."_

Malicorne turned to Guiche (or who he thought was Guiche). Did he just say he didn't mind commoners at his side? Was the whole world being turned upside down?

An affirmation came from Siesta, as a smile and stare that could only be described as _liberal._ Her body, flowing with new energy, knew that well.

And so, screaming like a goose, Malicorne skipped his breakfast and ran the fastest he ever had since before he had that potbelly out of Alviss Hall.

"_Power tastes nice, doesn't it, Siesta?" _Zero was curious at how Siesta would react to her first taste of juice.

"Yes it does. Do you have seconds?" The taste of power was unmistakable. Siesta longed for a second portion.

* * *

Far in the sidelines, Tabitha registered what had happened. According to Kirche, Guiche and the maid were in Louise's room this morning. Come to think of it, ever since the summonings, almost everyone seemed to be in a rut. Except her of course. Boys were tools and as men, they were needlessly violent. The Orleans knew that too well.

* * *

**That afternoon…**

After Siesta and he had entered Louise's room, Zero had a breather that he hadn't experienced since hundreds of years. The tension of a day's morning-to-night worth of civil disobedience was almost forgotten to him after centuries of leadership in his downtime apartment. It was a like eating a meat you've forgotten the flavour of, or wearing that previously undersized shirt after losing weight. It was a fresh breath of air from all the shooting, massacres and arson he was more used to.

"_Pleasant feeling, civil disobedience. Tastes almost like blood, but not quite it."_ Zero jumped and lied on Louise's bed, stretching, as Siesta approached and sat on it beside him.

Glancing at Siesta, Zero continued. _"With regards to your questions this morning, Siesta, I suppose you want answers."_

"Yes, Zero. Whenever I threw laundry water at one of the student's faces or pretended to beat the living…" Siesta hesitated. To Zero, this was very clear that this world had norms opposed against profanity.

"_Just say 'shit'"_ _Siesta. First step to being a successful revolutionary; don't mince words."_ To have the willingness to take a fascist newspaper that depicted a terrorist event with the headlines 'JERKS' and replace it with 'BASTARDS' or 'ASSHOLES' was one of the most low-risk ways to bring down a falsely moralistic society. Just have a marker at hand.

"Whenever I threw laundry water or pretended to beat the shit out of you in front of the other students, I felt myself become stronger. I more firmly believed in what you said. No-one else is here, so could you tell me more about it?"

"_On one condition; Siesta. Tell me, what are you willing to sacrifice?"_ Those who truly believed in the cause must be differentiated from those who merely sympathised it. Far too many times, a fellow traveller compromised a safehouse; a half-hearted drone who was merely captivated by words would be all too willing to testify against his compatriots in court. The mistake was learnt the hard way when one of the novice squads of ex-child workers under his control was wiped out by a half-hearted trainee's betrayal. That was equivalent to thousands of Reagandollars and a whole stash of secret files, all because of a deserter. Even worse, those turncoats brought with them the power of Heart, which (granted the Confederates could not gain Heart) made the enemy all the more dangerous.

"_Well, Siesta?"_ Hesitance was always to be expected by the average person. What mattered was the length of it.

"Home. Family. Friends. Siblings. Money. Possessions. I have nothing if I have no rights."

The speed with which Siesta responded surprised Zero. Even the average flaming hippie was far less decisive in their words.

"_You don't need to sacrifice that much." _Siesta sighed with relief. Being a revolutionary wouldn't be so stressful after all.

"_What you do need to sacrifice is communicating with your family," _Zero noticed that Siesta nodded quite forcefully _"and you need to be prepared."_

Siesta's eyes darted to her left, her hands fidgeting with each other, sweating and waiting for whatever horrible things Zero was going to tell her.

"_Are you prepared to give your life?"_

"Yes."

"_Are you prepared to murder?"_

"Yes."

"_To commit sabotage, which may or may not kill hundreds or even thousands of people?"_

"Yes."

"_To cheat, to forge, to blackmail, to corrupt the minds of children, to distribute addicting opium, to encourage prostitution,"_ Siesta clearly winced at that, _"to disseminate venereal diseases, to do anything that will make Halkeginia a haven for the weak?"_

"Yes." If it was for the sake of the Cause, Siesta would agree to anything. Even degrade herself.

That was the one answer necessary, necessary for Zero to roll down to the floor and crack out laughing. In all honesty, Zero's laugh was terrifying. Siesta stood and recoiled as Zero rolled and giggled on the floor. Maybe this wayward spirit was in fact a spy of the nobility rooting out commoners and she was wrong to trust this Zero in the first place at all?

Regaining composure, Zero stood up, noticing that Siesta had retreated to a corner of the room in fear. The laughter of one who had become a mass murderer could never be vocalised as light amusement at a joke ever again; it was always the celebration of another human's misery and no remorse could reverse that change. Understandably, it disturbed virtually everyone that heard it.

"_I'm sorry for terrifying you like that. That always happens when I quote '1984'."_ Zero brushed his uniform as if his laugh poisoned it.

"1984?" Zero was a learned man, and a little bit of knowledge, even useless and not of this world could not hurt Siesta.

"_A novel about the struggle of one man's attempt to be with the woman he loves." _To Zero, that was synonymous to the Confederacy.

Oh, romance! That always captured her attention. "Do you have a copy?"

"_Sadly, no."_

A poignant and blossoming prospective discussion of literature was rudely interrupted when the door was banged open.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED BETWEEN YOU AND MONTMORENCY?" A certain petite strawberry blonde just had to ruin everything.

The only way to respond to an acoustic assault was to retaliate.

"_**WHY DON'T YOU SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP?"**_

On that particular day, Sean Connery was made proud a quintillion times over.

* * *

**The day after**

Walk around the school. Collect laundry outside rooms. Discreetly knock on the doors of those students who had forgotten to place their laundry outside. If they weren't present, get the key for that room. Go to the washing shed. Wring the water out of clothing. Dry the clothing. Collect in into a basket. Return the laundry to those who owned it. Repeat.

That was Siesta's routine today. There was a complete absence of stares, all of which had been replaced by a stern neutrality, or even in certain cases, looking down on the ground. The other curiosity was the complete lack of eye contact between the students and her. The students who had forgotten to place their laundry outside, when they met her, met with a quaint and humbled tone. De Grandplé simply didn't open the door.

Her actions the day before must've had an impact. That was the only way to explain it. Regardless, she was looking forward to the next assignment. More juice lead to more conviction. More conviction led to more power. More power…

What did it lead to?

* * *

Kirche was incredibly curious over the circumstances of Montmorency's recent absence from classes. Not a single common class attended. Granted, they only had a few classes in common, but her absence from Potions spoke volumes about whatever was affecting her; it was Montmorency's top subject. It was due to this curiosity that she was currently outside Montmorency's room, knocking to no end, only to be constantly dismissed by some variation of "Go away!"

Persistence paid off and a puffy-eyed (and evidently, very dismal and irate) Montmorency pulled the door open.

"What do you want?

"Is that any way to greet me? I've came to ask why you weren't in Potion yesterday."

Turning away, Montmorency uttered, "None of your business."

Before the door had slammed shut, Kirche kept it from closing with her right arm.

"I seriously worried about you, Montmorency. You usually never skip potions, even if you're sick."

"Maybe I was really sick yesterday." Montmorency then threw the door shut before Kirche had a chance to react.

Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock. "Montmorency!"

As if annoyed by the persistence, Montmorency jerked the door slightly open, poking her head out.

"It's Guiche…" Well, it was for fault for doting on a playboy.

Interrupted by sobs, Montmorency continued. "Guiche… He pushed me away." The hurt and pain was by now pouring out of Montmorency's eyes like a small creek as she collapsed on her knees, jerking the door suddenly open.

'I'm genuinely sorry for you.' Was what Kirche's expressions relayed. Kneeling to help her up, Kirche held Montmorency by the shoulders.

"Let's get inside. I think you should know a thing or so."

* * *

Dig. Dig. Dig. Why was master silent?

* * *

Was there anything scarier than an eight-year old with an antique Kalashnikov? Yes there was; an eleven year old with a chain gun mowing down every Goddamned Confederate at the local coffeehouse and having his or her heavy ceramic armour splashed by blood. That same wretched tale had been repeated for almost five centuries. Raid the oil refinery. Kill every corporate security guard standing in the way. Rescue as many child labourers as possible. Teach them how to lie, infiltrate, hack, cut throats, shoot machine guns and sell cannabis brownies all for the greater Cause. Occasionally, one of them or even a whole squad would die; just go back to the factory and 'liberate' more child workers. That tale resonated with Zero. Whether or not he was a child worker he didn't know. He could **not** know. Three hundred years in the same urban cesspit was monotonous and tedious to such a degree they rubbed out on him. He knew he was male, he knew he was more than 300 years old, but the price of an iron conviction was the compromise of your own memories; he didn't so much lose them as they refused to let themselves be seen by him; were they in any way judging him? Was it that his killing of thousands of people condemned him to a Hell of forgetting? He remembered the warm embrace of the teary Third Zero, her kind arms wrapped around him like a mother finding a child lost in the forest – that was his earliest memory.

Alas, there was no time to think kindly of past times gone by. Sobbing to his left urged him to open his eyes. Streams of tears were leaking from Louise's eyes, a truly saddening sight. Had he been in a more cynical mood, he would've approached her, gently wiped them off her face and licked them in front of her; sadly, that was not a good way to provide confidence. Then again, neither was a redneck-style wife-beating slap to the face.

Zero stood up and leaned on the wall behind the dump of hay, folding his arms, enquiring quite directly (for honesty, even if brutal, was always the best policy):

"_Why are you crying, Vallière?"_ The tears made her look like one of those toy dolls the occasional child labourer clung onto; so innocent, so sympathisable (and for the more deadpan, so fake).

Although interspersed by hiccups and shrill exhaling, Louise eventually made her position known in one sentence.

"You're… So mean… Zero…"

After a short exchange on discipline, Zero gave a proposition.

"Do you want to hear something disturbing?"

* * *

Oh, there was something disturbing alright; Austri Plaza was ridden with molehills. The sight was almost annoying to Siesta as an arrogant Guiche goading her (though in all honesty, the broken, non-Zero possessed Guiche was good-natured enough that she could forgive him for that incident earlier). Everyone knew molehills were a blemish upon the ground. The last time moles had dug in her family's field, her father was so outraged that he restrained a mole that poked its head up so he could impale it multiple times with a fork. Terribly inefficient way to kill pests, that was.

The problem that moles gave to nobles was not one of threatening their livelihood, however, unless "Woe on me, I tripped myself on a molehill" could be counted as some kind of near-death experience. If it did happen however, the school staff would have to tolerate all the incessant stupidity and inane comments only possible as a result of an easy upbringing. Only for the spoilt was getting a little bit of dirt on your hands a horrible tragedy on the same level as (or even above) a pet commoner's death.

Guiche de Gramont had been acting strange lately. His shenanigans had escalated from relentless, unrestrained and imprudent lady-killing to an outright lack of irreverence for social custom. That did not offend Tabitha (or to the savvy, Charlotte d'Orléans) in any way whatsoever. "Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful." – Some old Romalian or an Albionian pretending to be one. That, and if you cross-referenced the Holy Book, it was full of inconsistencies and questionable actions that tugged your heartstrings (it took Tabitha longer to get used to it than getting used to slaughtering psychotic vampires and whatever whatnots). Brimir could afford to get away with having raunchy liberties with random women. Kings, with their abundance of questionable actions, used his deeds as an excuse. If commoners tried, they would be killed; their dominion was over their wife alone and if a woman tried to get away with anything… good luck to her. No, what really irked Tabitha was Guiche's recent change in behaviour. The most dangerous kind of rebel was the one who had no apparent reason to engage in it. He was a flirtatious dandy with particular spot in his heart for another blonde, Montmorency. There was no reason or need for him to have gone to Alviss Hall yesterday, lay his feet on the table and eat like a ruffian. And speaking of that other blonde, he pushed Montmorency away. Guiche was always supposed to be pulled towards Montmorency.

Sighing, Tabitha moved on. In an ideal world, she would not have to pay too much notice to the couple of days after the Springtime Familiar Summoning. Ideal worlds did not, however, consist of dark and tall mistresses of your uncle threatening to kill you and your mother. It always weighed on her, the tasks she had to engage in in order to meet Sheffield's expectations. "I'll kill your mother" had a special anxiety-inducing push to them whenever she was given an order, even if it was on paper. In a majority of cases, foolishness and dilly-dally were nothing more than wild carnal antics. For the paranoid king pretending to be an imbecile however, the slightest anomaly, even in a baby, could be a threat to his reign (if feigning stupidity and over-taxation could be termed a reign). Joseph was no messiah, so why Sheffield stationed her east of the Rhenus not even the Gods knew why.

"Morning, Tabitha, you won't believe what I've just discovered!" It was Kirche. Tabitha responded with the usual grunt of indifference, continuing to Alviss Hall downstairs. Even if they weren't going to make her grow (blame it on the stunting because of Joseph's murderous 'errands'), chicken drumsticks always placed her worries where they belonged; the chamber pot. On a side note; what Kirche usually spewed out of her mouth on a beautiful day was chamber pot content. Her dalliances here, some sensual descriptions of groping and fondling here and there, nothing of real value to add to Tabitha's logs (unless Joseph specifically asked for 'entertainment' – writing raunchy stories was a boring business). Therefore, what came out of Kirche's mouth today was the exception rather than the rule.

"You know why Montmorency wasn't at class yesterday?" 'The Ardent' fit her well. Why girls had to be all chirpy when they were talking, Tabitha only knew one thing of; because it was a waste of energy and happy people tended to waste energy for shits and giggles.

"Why?" 'Give me a direct response, don't waste my time' was the tone Tabitha had always adopted when responding to another person. Time was intelligence. Intelligence was keeping her mother alive, secure and sane as long as possible. 'Sanity', to Tabitha, meant not spiraling further into more of a haggard, tragic mess.

"Apparently, Guiche practically rejected her." Redundancy!

"Already known." Her classmates were a bunch of talkative emotional clowns; if they'd had ever seen what she had seen, none of this tedium would be pestering her now.

"And when I told her that Guiche was sitting next to the maid that beat him up earlier at breakfast, you know what she said?" Rhetorical questions were redundant.

"She said she was going to 'drop the shit out of her'." Ooh, edgy, but redundant.

"And you know what?" Redheads were full of redundancy.

"Get to the point already Kirche." Kirche almost jumped out of fright. The sudden sight of a frustrated, frowning, poorly rested Tabitha was awfully surprising and all the more startling when it reared around to meet your face like an ugly truth.

* * *

"Why did I agree to this again?" A hushed and embarrassed, small squeak came from Vallière, to be heard only by Zero.

The sight of Vallière in her nightgown was the object of salivation for some and outright contempt of others. The polarisation in attitudes towards Vallière was not lessened in any way by the sunlight that bathed her through the windows. To the likes of Gimli and Reynald, as their scrunched faces and altered placing of their cloaks indicated, this was their chance to capture into their memories the perfect night-time 'self-realisation' fantasy (granted she had no bosom, but the appeal of a child-like body had an explosive quality all its own, wretched hypocrites they were for teasing Malicorne). To fellow female students however, it seemed like a desperate (yet very successful – nothing else could explain why Guiche de Gramont was trailing after her the way he usually did after Montmorency) attempt at trying to pull more of the male school population into her sphere of influence and create a monopoly over ever decent male (which was virtually everyone, except Malicorne). Much glaring and leers (which would kill if they could kill) darted across the corridors as Louise continued her little stroll down the tower. Upon closer inspection, a crying first-year or two could be seen every second floor they descended.

"_Because this can _expand _your horizons."_ Zero placed an unnecessary amount of stress on 'expand'. He'd better not be talking about her chest, or else…

"_And if you're thinking about whipping or yelling at me for my innuendo, remember, I'll just let you turn into a failure."_ That really bit at her. There was no real way to discourage him from poking fun at her bust now, was there? If he could give her magic, he probably could take it away and she'd be back at square zero.

Making their way down one of the dual staircases of Alviss Hall, they both could see a stunned student body (a quarter of which were still asleep or somewhere else), completely silent, apparently mesmerised by the sight of Louise de la Vallière in a revealing nightgown and Guiche closely following her. A first-grade girl stood up and yelled "Guiche!" across the hall; a rule of civil disobedience was that you ignored trivial happenings. Ignoring the girl's repeated cries, Zero noticed to his left that a Siesta in stance bearing a frying pan was swearing like a pirate at the many irate students that surrounded her.

"_Come here Louise." _As Zero made his way to the crowd, Louise followed.

"Go away you filthy peasant, nobles only!"

"Your kind are rats!"

Much jeering and swearing was being directed at Siesta, degrading names, sexist slurs, insults on mothers, everything imaginable! By Jove, it reminded Zero of that incident where a lynch mob a trainee was dealing with got (ironically) intimidated with a noose. Zero and Louise (the wolf-whistles were annoying) made their way through the crowd of third-graders and joined Siesta in the centre.

"_Show them what you're made of, Louise."_ Pushing her doubt away, Louise de la Vallière immediately drew her wand from the side of her nightgown.

A wave and an incantation later, a rather big, yellow flame was coming out of the tip of Louise's wand, pointed high in the air. Zero nodded at Louise, as if commanding her to _'intimidate'_.

"**THERE'S A REASON WHY THEY SAY 'OUT OF THE FRYING PAN, INTO THE FIRE'!"**

The howling mob was immediately silenced, their encirclement around the trio loosening, as they noticed how Louise de la Vallière managed to summon a _very_ hot fireball. Being third-years, they didn't have the fortune to directly see her suddenly being able to cast proper magic. But the rumours were abound that she had improved to the same level as Kirche or Tabitha – small infernos and ice picks made out of ice weren't exactly appealing ways to get sent to the Water Tower and for the few who had seen Kirche's fireball, Louise's one looked smaller, but far more bright and thus hot. Gonads would get fried whether or not the flame in question was large.

"_What Vallière means to say is that this maid should be allowed to enjoy the fruits of her labour without being disrupted."_ Grunts of confusion began to permeate the crowd, who had known of Guiche's consistent utterance of 'tasteful' comments about female commoners.

"_To the less intellectually inclined, what we're trying to say is that if, in the future, you find yourselves cold," _Zero turned his head left to right, staring deeply into the eyes of the members of the crowd, _"you're more than welcome to go to Louise to get warmed up."_ Pissing their pants at (apparently) Guiche's uncharacteristically stern and well-worded warning (devoid of any tone that would give it venereal innuendo), the crowd dispersed and the three made themselves comfortable in the untouched breakfast of the third graders, a celebration of their little victory through their stomachs.

* * *

In the second row of the dining hall, there was less celebrating among another trio.

"What the effing Hell is he doing?" There was Louise in an almost see-through nightgown to count, a commoner eating at one of Alviss Hall's tables, Guiche sitting in the middle of them both as it if the beginnings of a harem and they didn't even pray before eating! The dismay on Montmorency's face almost stretched her jaws to the table. The sheer shock of having Guiche engage in such behaviour in front of her forced a large frown onto her face. What had happened to him?

"That's what I was talking about earlier in your room. And he's been following the maid longer than Vallière." Kirche, relatively apathetic to the racket, continued to stare vacantly into the table.

Also apathetic to the awkwardness and stares being thrown across the room, Tabitha continued reading her book, amidst all the chatter and the yelling made by an irate Montmorency. That and Vallière was giving a speech on the tables. How she managed to ignore all the boys through her nightgown, Tabitha couldn't concern herself to know.

"**Not all breasts are created equal! Some are large and some are small, some are jiggly, some are firm and some are saggy, but there is one thing I desire for bearers of both! That is the day when women are judged not by the size of their breasts, but rather the content of their character!"**

At the end of it all, the less confident girls in the academy were fawning over Vallière. Tabitha could sympathise with some of the point, inane and inappropriate as Vallière's actions and clothing were. Kirche was seething and Montmorency – Tabitha would not compromise her professionalism, even in her mind, to describe the state of confusion Montmorency was in. As for the boys; some of them were trying to see through Vallière's nightgown to look at her chest – that only ended in incinerating rear ends.

* * *

Vestri Court was the area used for practicals and speaking of practicals, Louise de la Vallière was practically exhausted from both the fireball and the speech. Not to mention the need to run back to her room and get into uniform at that. Despite her exhaustion however, Louise felt more _right_. She felt more _content_ with her world, all the while more aware. Zero's 'Cause' which he spoke with so much reverence began to make more sense to her; she would be ready to repeat what had happened early if he told her to. That was the power of Heart and Juice. If she acted, she would gain; if she did not, she maintained and if she failed, she lost.

"Good morning to you all class." Mr Colbert had arrived. The shortage of teaching staff meant that teachers often found themselves teaching more than one subject. Mr Kaita himself had to teach Potions and his own element and water (and a whole subject was more work than having a part to teach in Basic Elements), Mr Colbert had to teach Familiar Studies, Humanities (he could never find it less difficult to lie about the D'Angleterre episode regardless of how many times he taught it) in and Fire in Elements and Miss Chevreuse had to teach Arithmetic, Etiquette and Earth. Kaita, that smug whippersnapper had it a lot easier than him and Chevreuse. Say 'workload' is an arbitrary unit. Kaita had one-and-a-half in workload. Chevreuse had two-and-a-quarter in workload. Colbert found himself with the same amount of workload as Chevreuse, but screw that, explaining history, geography and how to be respected by your familiar touched on a lot more difficult nuances than counting beans and knowing to yell at commoners. Furthermore, Fire was a nasty element. D'Angleterre was not flattened by a landslide, flooded by a storm, blown away by a tornado or blasted into oblivion by a gigantic explosion. It was roasted to the ground and making sure that wasn't repeated at the Academy, with all the annoying children required much more training and discipline, than a line mage who happened to be good at two elements or a triangle mage who had the luxury of needing only to stack Earth three times in demonstrations of Triangle-level magic, could ever muster.

"Excuse me sir, aren't you going to teach us on our familiars?" He was at it again, getting carried away about D'Angleterre. Since when did D'Angleterre begin again to weigh on his mind so heavily? He'd thought he'd gotten over about it 15 years ago. Gimli of all the students wanted to learn!

"Yes, sorry for my absent-mindedness, just a few things on my mind."

Clearing his throat, Colbert started his briefing of the lesson.

"Today, we will be learning more about your familiars." Conjuring a blackboard and chalk from the ground…

* * *

Ooh, was Verdandi having a bad day. First the link between her and master gone for two entire days and now the ground below her was shaking. She was supposed to shake the ground, not anything above! And the chalk master had told her to scrape up was missing! That cost an earful of trouble to extract.

* * *

Louise and Zero both found themselves in a less-than-ideal situation. Around them, practically everyone else had their familiars, bugbear, snake, raven, dragon, salamander, frog, you name it. Body-possessing spirits were not visible and familiars did not answer to any soul other than their master's.

Louise's familiar was Zero. However, Zero had no body of his own. That was not the main problem; the problem was Zero was currently possessing Guiche's body. If interaction with "Guiche" were to reveal to her class the nature of her familiar, Zero's advantage in disguise would be compromised – if it were discerned that Guiche and Zero were not the same person, that her familiar had no body of his own, there would be attempts to uncover Zero – if Zero ever gave away his agenda, whether intentionally or unintentionally, not only his but Louise's safety would be under threat. While it certainly was the worst case scenario, the better ones weren't exactly tolerable either – that fact that familiars were considered an extension of their summoners meant that if any of them knew Zero, they would suspect Louise to share those same views (which she had begun to did, even if not enthusiastically). Her mother's political opponents would then proceed to try to use this against her – cue confiscated land and lost titles.

Zero saw the vacantness of fright in Louise's china-doll face. She was probably thinking about his disembodied nature. On his side of the equation, he was supposed to be acting as Guiche de Gramont. While he could've simply let the real Guiche take back control of his body, that left Zero with the question on how to act as Louise's familiar. Only a few choices were apparent to him and all of them were less than perfect. The first choice was to hold onto Louise's left hand, however, Zero was on Louise's right and to move to her left in the class crowd and hold onto her left hand all of a sudden meant that he had to establish another level of disguise as part of façade; good disguises, much like AK rifles, were simple disguises; complex machinations were ones with less reliability. Zero (or Guiche, when Zero was not in control) would then have to pretend to be Vallière's beau for the rest of her school life and play the part; that would then tie them too close together and the ability to plausibly deny a close connection between them would be threatened; hostage taking and blackmail could become tools against their agenda. The second choice, saying 'I forgot' would make whatever conservatives there were who knew about Guiche before his possession crawl out of the woodwork – open roadblocks were as much of an inconvenience as hidden ones and he had acted erratically enough for at least one person to notice. The third, running away from the class, could give the duo a detention or some other run-of-the-mill punishment for attempted truancy – not exactly a bad choice, but Zero didn't like wasting money. Furthermore, it could create misunderstandings like the first one, even if they were toned-down. The fourth option, murdering everyone and then running away was completely out of the question. Being a revolutionary tended to make you bloodthirsty in the most incongruous of situations and those in the state bloodthirstiness had a strange inability to think about other factors, like who was watching them. Besides, you never attacked an institution of learning regardless.

Turning to Louise, Zero whispered: _"Let's not try to attract Colbert's attention for the moment." _– Louise nodded in agreement, as Zero and she made their wars through to the back of the crowd, near the walls separately.

"As I mentioned in the lesson before you summoned your familiars, a familiar may assist a mage in many ways. For example, some can natively generate reagents. Would anyone like to demonstrate?" Strange day today. The shitty students were at the front and the hardworking and intelligent ones were at the back. Then again, the smartasses really didn't have the balls to show themselves. Goodness, what had gotten into him today, thinking so negatively about students? It was like as if proximity to a malevolent presence was poisoning him.

"Yes, Mr Colbert!" It was Kirche. Better keep an eye on that one; one miscommunication and she'd probably have blackmail material on him. (Again with the cynicism!).

"Well then, Miss Zerbst, demonstrate." (And he had to forget to say please!).

"Flame!" A growl of curiosity came from the salamander in response.

„Scheiße bitte!" The salamander obliged the command and after much squelching and flatulence (which caused the crowd of students to groan in disgust), a brick of flint dropped from Flame's underside. Native generation of reagents indeed.

Mr Colbert approached the result as Flame made way, holding it up to the sunlight. After a few more seconds of examination, he placed it back on the floor.

"Your familiar's in quite a good condition, Zerbst." The flint was immaculate. Personally, he wanted to use it for one of his experiments, although he'd probably have to ask later, as right now several students (among them Malicorne) were now nauseous at the sight.

"Nothing unnatural, so I don't know why you're all squeamish for." The timing of that statement could not be more inappropriate, with Reynald vomiting all over the grass at the sight. What did roast nerd taste like (oh no oh no oh no, he was not going to repeat D'Angleterre again, whatever evil urge was encouraging him to do it!)?

"As for those familiars which cannot do what Kirche's has just demonstrated here, larger ones," Colbert turned to Tabitha beside Sylphid "may act as a mount for their mages or gather reagents rather than produce them. I'm like the rest of you to demonstrate what your familiars can do."

* * *

Tabitha mounted Sylphid and flew high into the sky. The bugbear shed tears, which solidified into a powder when they met the ground. Cubasil had the audacity to defecate on Malicorne's head, whereupon the rest of the students laughed.

"I guess that says a lot about your ability to control your familiar, Malicorne, right?" What they were saying about him was that what dropped onto his head reflected his magical aptitude. Malicorne made a note to curse whoever said that with flatulence. After all, he was a WIND mage in more ways than one.

* * *

"Interesting substance Robin is sweating out there, Miss Montmorency." Colbert was fixated on the yellow frog, which was currently dripping out a pink substance. Colbert smeared the sweat onto his right index finger and lifted it to his nose.

"… You've got to be really careful with that Miss Montmorency. That's eau d'amour. If any of the boys start acting weird around here, you'd be the first suspect." Mr Colbert addressed Montmorency seriously with somewhat of a smirking expression. It was as if he was expecting her to start trouble with it. Unfortunately for her, she did, but not through her own actions.

"Eau d'amour? Come to think of it, maybe Montmorency botched it and Louise was the first thing Guiche saw."

"That kind of makes sense, why else would Guiche be following Vallière?"

"It's the only explanation! She gave Guiche a love potion and it messed up and worked on Vallière instead!"

Oh there was trouble alright. In Vestri Court, rumours and gossip were flying around about Louise and Guiche's connection to each other.

"Silence! Gossiping is a bad habit to get into!" Colbert cast a fireball with his staff, waving it high to intimidate every student into silence. He never usually did that. Oh, did he need to drink to cool that rage.

"Now, the two students yet to have shown me their familiar's abilities are Vallière and Gramont. Would those two please show themselves?" Mr Colbert's frustration had begun to fade away, but the irritation was still evident in his voice, making it seem like a demand rather than a request.

Maybe he'd pretend that he'd forgotten where his familiar was. That was the best option. So, straightening himself off the wall, Zero was about to make haste towards Mr Colbert, some ten metres away and not aware of where Guiche was, when all of a sudden, his left hand was tugged. It was Louise, and she was apparently trying to drag him to the nearest walkway. The pissant amount of strength that Guiche's body had gave Louise the advantage.

"_The Hell are you doing?" _Whatever Louise was doing, it would probably remove all elements of subtlety and attract a lot of attention – and it did.

"Just follow me!" Louise had to get Zero out of Guiche's body, so that she could show everyone else her familiar powers and so that Guiche could summon Verdandi. They needed to put on an act to remain low-profile and even if it involved snogging (yuck!) him, she would.

"Oh look, the Zero is dragging Guiche!"

"So it is true!"

* * *

Zero soon found himself under Vallière, who was all over his (or rather Guiche's) body, hidden from view from the rest of the class, under the shade of the part of the walkway closest to the main tower.

'_Don't tell me she's going to kiss 'me'.' _The option of having Guiche de Gramont pretend to be Louise de la Vallière's boytoy, though a viable one was also an undesirable one. Particularly with the increased attention on Louise de la Vallière as a result of the incidents in the dining hall, whatever actions they hence would participate in would have to be consistent – and consistency compromised simplicity. They'd probably have to pretend to have a relationship going on for the next month (or even more if they became involved in more drastic actions) before splitting up; that was less than ideal because of the multiple actions Zero had planned to be carried out by separate squads – he could not afford to have all his eggs in one basket. In hindsight, the two of them should've stayed at the front and designed excuses.

"Stop struggling!" Vallière now had the aura of a tiger on it prey; she was trying to wrestle him into submission…

… And she did, as her lips touched his.

That very instant, Zero felt the realm of his consciousness beginning to scrunch like a chip packet – for a moment, it was as if the Idea did not even exist and a state of what could only be called transience held him captive. It then all became clear to him – He was back in Vallière's body, or rather in the back of her mind. From his (and Vallière's) point of view, he could see that he (or she, he'd never get used to switching sex in different bodies) was snogging Guiche, who, in all in his near-toothless glory, was kissing Louise (whose body he was in and could feel all the resulting sensations) back passionately, tongue and all. Guiche's hand placed itself on Vallière's thigh and it would've escalated there were it not the timely interruption of Mr Colbert.

"MISS VALLIÈRE AND MR GRAMONT! THERE IS A TIME AND A PLACE FOR THAT KIND OF BEHAVIOUR AND IT'S NEITHER THE RIGHT TIME NOR THE RIGHT PLACE!" Upon Mr Colbert's outburst (she could swear the air around her increased in temperature), Vallière immediately jumped off Guiche's body and jerked straight up (The sensation of moving when you didn't want to was not the most pleasant). Unfortunately for Vallière, Guiche de Gramont was still reaching for Vallière's stockings.

"AND YOU TOO MR GRAMONT, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OF OFF VALLIÈRE!" Guiche didn't care about what Mr Colbert told him to do. He had only one master, Zero (or was it Louise? He couldn't distinguish, and honestly, that didn't bother him) who had implicitly desired him to make love to her, and so his hands continued towards Vallière's stockings.

"GUICHE, STOP!" Louise screeched out shrilly. And so Guiche de Gramont stopped. "As you wish, Mistress."

"Both of you, after class!" Was the world going mad? Colbert couldn't catch a break. "For now, get back to Vestri. Demonstrate your familiars' capabilities." Even if it was a racket, it was still class time.

* * *

She could feel master again! Master would be so proud of the chicken bone she found!

* * *

**That afternoon…**

Aside from the particularly hyper-acoustic chastising that Guiche and Vallière (and by extension, Zero in Vallière's body) had received, the need for Guiche to be constantly told specifically what to do by Vallière, the hushed whispering and gossiping that was being thrown around about them being a couple (which was highly inconvenient for Zero, as now both operational simplicity and a whole layer of secret-keeping had been compromised) and the murderous, spinechilling glances being thrown like daggers at Vallière by Montmorency whenever Vallière was holding hands with Guiche (to uphold the façade), the day had pretty much progressed 'normally'. It was now dinnertime and thus another opportunity for action…

…except that to take that opportunity would've been to further compromise the secrecy of their agenda. In particular, Zero was particularly irate with Vallière over the whole disaster in Vestri Court. The reward that Vallière received for her rashness was a constant headache in the form of intense and (paradoxically) engaging criticism.

'…_completely unprofessional. You're one of the most difficult recruits I've ever had to lead.' _It was true that Vallière kissed Guiche as if she had been his lover, but it was for the greater cause! It was to deflect suspicion from why they were unable to call upon their familiars!

_'Yes, Vallière, but had you not thought of the possibility that I just finished formulating a plan to get out of that mess?' _Zero was speaking the truth. She had acted on impulse. What was _his _plan then?

_'I would've pretended to have gotten sick by letting you cast mud down Guiche's stomach and then having me (or Guiche, whatever you want to call it) vomit it all out on the ground, then Mr Colbert would've come, you would've said that I'm sick and he'd have told you to take me to the sick bay.' _The brutally critical response only made Vallière more whingey as she squealed out a prolonged "Stop!", causing the real Guiche behind her to kneel on all-fours immediately and a couple of nearby students to question her sanity.

"Mistress, what would you have me do?" For an automaton like Guiche, that was a perfectly innocent and legitimate question, but for the group of boys behind him, it was outright scandalous! Guiche had called Vallière 'mistress' – that could've meant one or more things; that he had become the bellows and the fan to cool Vallière's long repressed (explainable by the way she repelled boys with her groin kicks and inhospitable attitude, not to mention her lack of endowments) lust, that he was a masochist and was into 'it' or that he was just plain brainwashed. The first two were completely reasonable; given how badly Guiche de Gramont had been utterly humiliated and debased by the maid; what noble girl would've wanted to date a dandy who lost so badly to a commoner that he couldn't even surrender? Honour might've been prized by all those silly first-year girls, but any mature young lady knew that they were supposed to be looking for males that were both intelligent and lordlike, not some arrogant dandruff-preening riff-raff from some more unrefined military family – the foolhardy stupidity Guiche showed against the maid practically ruined his chances in courtship, so it made sense that he would stoop to the likes of Vallière, essentially, being the most enthusiastic bottom-feeder in a race to the bottom. And the way he so joyously celebrated his beating towards the end of the whole fiasco pointed to his development of a servile tendency; Vallière was a sadist, so a relationship was very possible; regarding the less likely scenario of him being brainwashed, that was practically impossible to conceive, because there were no square-level mages in the school as of yet. So to them, the only logical conclusion was that Vallière was using Guiche as a boy-toy. Deriding remarks from the group was all the proof that was necessary to show how poorly they thought of him, not that he cared.

'_You can't even keep your conversation with me inside of your head.' _In her defence, Zero was so _harsh!_

Mocking mimicry and insults continued to be directed at Guiche.

"Oh, mistress, would you have me rock your bed?"

"Mistress, I've come to give you breakfast, I'll add my sausage to your eggs!" Whoever said this made the entire crowd of boys now gathered before the two laugh like hyenas.

Vallière had had enough.

"Guiche, make them shut up." Standing up, Guiche quickly drew his rose wand in an instant

'_NO!' _Just as Gimli's trousers and cloak got caught on fire, Vallière felt herself losing her perception of reality; it faded and her control was instantly suppressed efficiently and brutally, her mind being pushed right down into the mental abyss, as Zero's mental presence overwhelmed her's and he took control of her body; she was as a twig before a wave.

"_Stop, Guiche!" _Instantly, Guiche placed his wand back into his pocket. As the mobs of boys continued to disperse in fear for their trousers' and gonads' lives, he waited patiently for orders.

'_Don't tell Guiche to make people shut up again, Vallière.'_ This was why he didn't want to lose control of Guiche's body.

Her soul shrouded in fear, Vallière's voice asked, 'Why?' Why did Guiche throw a fireball?

'_When I broke Guiche's mind, I trained him to carry out commands in the most efficient way possible.'_ In other words, killing accounted for a lot of the actions Guiche would engage in if Zero or Vallière told him to stop someone or something.

At this point, Vallière's soul was trembling with tightness in her chest. She had practically told Guiche to kill them all?

'_Yes, and that's why I didn't want you to rip me out of his body earlier. You don't know how to control an automaton and you already told me earlier you didn't want to kill people yet so I transferred myself into his body the day before. Honestly Vallière, learn to control yourself!'_ Louise was far too shaken to respond. She had practically told Guiche to kill them all – if it weren't for Zero, she would've had blood on her hands – she wasn't willing to stoop to that extent to gain Juice – and so her consciousness retreated.

"_Follow me, Guiche!"_ Guiche obliged.

* * *

Siesta was at the second-years' table, disregarding all the glances of fright, timidity and the occasional foolhardy leer, that were often directed at her by the students several seats away from her. Over the course of today and the day before, students had quickly learned to not inform Siesta that Alviss hall was nobility-only. The frying pan she always had on her side since the incident earlier in the day might've played a factor, but more importantly, Guiche's chillingly creepy insistence that she be allowed to sit where she pleased and Vallière's threats of immolation had convinced the more chauvinistic and less practical of students that she was more trouble than was worth their time. This reality was all the more drilled into their heads when a considerably more neurotic-than-usual-looking Vallière and a Guiche (that looked quite slow in the mind than he was in the morning, to the more observant) trailing her made their ways down from the Main Tower through the stairs towards Siesta. A grim silence of resignation had flooded the whole hall. In this hall, you did not mess with the maid with the frying pan.

"_Ouvrier de Tarbes."_ The voice that came from the form of Vallière was not the shrill girl's voice you would expect from the petite Louise the Zero. The reverberating, wilful brevity of it was unique to _Zero_. Siesta acknowledged Zero's presence by suddenly standing up, startling the tenser of students several seats away from the empty buffer zone seats they had formed.

"_We're going to eat in Austri Plaza."_ Siesta nodded in understanding; they had raised their fair share of Hell in the last two days.

Vallière's internal question of why they were going to eat in the dark and the cold was instantly suppressed by Zero.

'_Shut up, Vallière.' _ The sheer coldness of the command, Vallière later found out to be colder than Austri Plaza at night.

* * *

The amount of hysteria that Montmorency was generating throughout the day was more than enough to disconcert Charlotte d'Orléans. As much as Tabitha had solidified her mind and trained her face into steel, dealing with alternating sobs and screeches of sorrow and profanity and screams of utter rage was less than manageable. This was reflected in the pace at which she ate her chicken – bite by bite rather than chunk by chunk characterised her consumption as her left eyes was glancing towards the utter emotional wreck that was Montmorency Margarita La Fère de Montmorency.

"I swear, I will kill Vallière when I find out what she did to him!" The strange state between silence and whispered chatter that otherwise blanketed Alviss Hall was predominated by the despair and rage of a certain blonde.

"IMGONNAKILLHERIMGONNAKILLHERIMGONNAKILLHERIMGONNAKILLHER!" Everyone knew it was bad form for a noble to stomp on the table like a Germanian (not that Kirche ever did it). That alone did not annoy Tabitha. It was the noise and death threats as well. Upon Montmorency's latest outburst, Tabitha placed her chicken drumstick on the table and seized Montmorency by her chemisier's collar, startling Kirche. The amount of strength that Tabitha had was belied by her petite frame.

"Annoying. Time and a place." Upon the seizure of her collar, Montmorency's wailing and crying gradually tapered into rocking sobs and the occasional rapid blinking of red eyes. Even then, the horrible loss of appetite that Montmorency had progressively inflicted on Tabitha could not be ameliorated. Accepting this, Tabitha stood up and placed her chair in.

"Where are you going Tabitha?" Kirche placed down her roll of bread to enquire.

"Upstairs."

"Upstairs?" Tabitha had a frustrating habit of not providing context at the right time.

"Observation. Gramont and Vallière."

Grunting in apathy, Kirche picked up her dinner roll and continued on eating it. 'Twas none of her problem if Guiche was now the boy-toy of Vallière. With his vaguely buggeristic tendencies, if anything, she was grateful to Vallière for allowing her to access his disciple band of Junkers and Maîtres. They needed a lesson in manhood.

* * *

"_Kiss my left hand, Guiche."_ Guiche complied, and within an instant, Zero felt his realm of consciousness expand and collapse repeatedly many times, as he found himself in control of Guiche's body. As for Louise de la Vallière, she was slumped on the table like a hungover alcoholic.

'_Less than impressive.' _Vallière was indeed intelligent; that was the only way to explain the insane action she pulled off in Familiar Studies – what irked Zero was the lack of composure she had.

Lifting his (or rather, Guiche's) right hand, Zero planted a light slap on Vallière's back.

"Ow. So cold here." Vallière slowly straightened herself as she leaned on the chair.

"_You're less than professional, Vallière." _The stern frown Siesta had on her face seemed to make her agree with Zero's statement.

"_Wake yourself up." _In hindsight, it seemed like a rather futile statement. Vallière was nearly dead knocked out. Must've been too harsh on shutting her up on his head.

"_Do you know why we're here?" _Zero directed the question at no one in particular.

"Is it about the attention we've attracted?" Siesta knew a lot about attention, namely, the trio had acquired a fair share of it over the last one-and-a-half days.

"_Almost, but not quite." _It was about juice. And speaking of Vallière being slightly asleep, Zero took his cup of tea and poured some of it into her mouth. Screaming and wailing ensued.

"Why did you do that for?!" Vallière was shedding tears again. Not this crying little girl nonsense again. Come to think of it, she didn't seem any more awake after he poured hot boiling tea down her throat. Zero felt severely hurt due to what he had done. The guilt pressing upon him was above-average in weight. It was so evil of him to poor semi-boiling tea down a young girl's throat and torture her that. It was a waste of perfectly good tea. Putting his overbearing shame of wasting good tea aside, Zero continued.

"_I presume you both understand the nature of juice?" _A nodding head and a slightly slurred grunted make it clear they both did.

"_You both understand how actions increase your potential?" _Again with the nodding head and the grunt.

"_What you need to know is, what we've done isn't enough." _At this, Siesta increased her attention to Zero, already high. Vallière, of course, was still as dopey as ever. The body-switching must've exhausted her. _'Make note: Don't transform frequently.'_

"_As of now, our actions have solely consisted of angering people. That has given you both a fair share of juice. There comes a point when angering people won't give you anymore juice. Have any of you noticed it yet?"_ To this, Siesta raised her hand slightly.

"I didn't find myself growing anymore when I sat in Alviss just then." Siesta was more composed, more reliable than Vallière. Zero was tempted to think that _ouvriers_ were just better people, but then again, the CEOs he persuaded to his side were also decent people.

"_When this happens, we must be prepared to take more radical action. What I will detail will be just that."_ Vallière's head slightly perked up at 'detail'. At least she wasn't a resigned dope.

"_The most effective way to gain advanced juice has always been to kill people."_

A look between shock and astoundedness riddled Siesta's face "Kill? We're going to go around killing mages? With all due respect, Zero…" Siesta's advice was promptly cut off.

"_I only said that the most effective way to gain _advanced _juice is to kill people. I didn't mention _intermediate _juice._" Again, that curiosity, that eagerness to learn was on Siesta's face. Vallière, thankfully was beginning to clear herself up.

"You mean they're a way I can get more powerful without killing people?" Boy, was Vallière interested – occasionally, a person only joined the Liberal Crime Squad because they were a power hungry maniac – those ones tended to be less ideologically reliable – if he could've afforded to, he would've made Vallière attack a teacher just to get rid of her – unfortunately, Vallière herself wasn't willing to try and murder people on her own accord (for some reason, he could never persuade her) and he wasn't so sure about whether or not possessing her and letting her get killed while he was still in her body was a good idea.

"_Yes Vallière, although if you keep on treating juice as a means to your academic success rather than the Idea, you're going to end up wanting to kill people regardless." _Heh, the way her arrogant little smile was just wiped off of her face was as funny as torturing a guard dog to death on accident (a very Confederate thing to do by the way, not that doing it made him any less convinced in his own righteousness.).

"So what are we going to do, Zero?" Siesta's query interrupted Zero's little animal cruelty fantasy. He really needed to stop having Confederate habits.

"_What are we going to do? Tell me, Siesta, have you ever seen or heard something that you were never supposed to, like nobles plotting on how to extort as much money from a commoner as possible, or a slaver associated with a noble joking about using them to subsidise his own carnal tendencies?"_

"Not as of yet…" Siesta had always regarded the outrageous tales of nobles having the _right_ to pick up commoner women as forced concubines as polemics and libel designed purely to enrage fellow commoners; yes, there were the cases of nobles outright raping a female _ouvrier _(she had come to like the term) in near-public and getting away with it (otherwise, she wouldn't have (mistakenly) thought that she was being pressured into an orgy two days ago by Guiche), but they were probably isolated incidents that would've enraged the Princess had she known, or so Siesta hoped.

"Of course not! Nobles would never do such a thing. It's always the commoner girls that spread their legs for an écu." Not only a flat-chested self-interested little girl that joined the LCS for her own gain, but a naïve one at that. Even after making a wonderful speech (to bring justice to the speech in question, she was the Martin Luther King on breast size) on body image, the little pissant still couldn't fully grasp the relationship between power and abuse thereof. The serious, acidic glare from Siesta seemed to be the response to her ignorance. Just where did Siesta learn composure from?

Seeing that the conflict could've otherwise wracked them all, Zero continued. _"Even if you never had before, don't you think knowing whatever they are thinking in advance is useful?" _Siesta nodded. Knowing what your taxes were beforehand could've saved a lot of _ouvriers_ from the shock of a lord dragging them into serfdom (which though rare in Tristain, still occurred time-to-time nonetheless).

"_That is precisely what I am proposing be done."_ Vallière yawned when Zero finished. In hindsight, promising not to slap her in the face even if she annoyed him was a mistake of emotion.

* * *

It was an odd sight to say the very least. What Tabitha saw below her from the ballroom's balcony was very unusual of all the parties involved – the maid (apparently named Siesta) was paying close attention to Gramont, who was waving his arms about as if he were teaching about something. Meanwhile, Vallière was slumped on the table, only perking her head up whenever Guiche made a particularly intense movement. The other irking little detail was that Gramont was not focused on Vallière like he was during the day – the adoration he had demonstrated towards her since the end of Mr Colbert's class was absent. Overall, what had happened during the last few several days had been very confusing; Siesta roughed Gramont up, with Gramont requesting that Siesta not experience the usual occupational disciplinary procedures – then he invited Siesta to Alviss, flouting etiquette. The day after that, the entire trio went to breakfast, and Vallière threatened to set the third-graders on fire for mobbing Siesta – there never had been a visible history between Vallière and Gramont and when considered in light of their mutual disdain for each other, it should've been impossible. Couple it with Siesta's shyness, and Tabitha found herself with a really unexplainable situation. Whenever in history did a maid, an inept and a dandy congregate together in an academy in order to cause as much trouble and mischief as possible, with no clear previous history of contact? Tabitha reasoned that it could've been planned from the very beginning, but that would be stretching her need to explain how they got into contact with each other – to say the Gramonts had any relation to the Vallière was akin to saying (quoting Siesta) that two plus two equalled five – it was ridiculous – the Gramont's fief was to the west of the Tristain, the Vallière's, near the Germanian border – dismissing the thought of googly eyed 13-year-old Vallière writing to her love Gramont was not even necessary – the Vallières had a duchy, and the Gramonts a piddling pissant little county that would've been forgotten were for his father's habit of _'_accidentally' sleeping with every other noblemen's wives which had made the name Gramont synonymous with unbridled promiscuity in one generation. There was nothing tying the Gramonts and the Vallières together – no commercial links, no common ancestry, no common interests…

Wait a minute… Mr Colbert discussed "inner familiars" and how Louise had one – that could've explained the change in her behaviour, though not Guiche's…

Screw it… It wasn't Tabitha's role to wildly fantasize, however. All she needed to do was record and predict. She wasn't engaged enough to dally in one of Joseph's paranoid, pointless and often completely hysterical fantasies.

* * *

_To Mademoiselle Sheffield_

_Intelligence report 83_

_Individuals of interest and rationale_

_Currently under observation_

_Longueville (c) (First name unknown) – Newcomer, known to be exploring the academy building._

_Jean Colbert – Highly skilled square-class mage of relatively young age – has a strong aversion to students using fire magic against each other._

_Kirche (G) Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst – Mass seductress – success still hasn't declined._

_Additions_

_Guiche de Gramont – sudden and inexplicable shift in behaviour after losing a duel he challenged Siesta (c) to a duel _

_Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière – similar sudden and inexplicable shift in behaviour to Guiche after summoning of what Jean Colbert termed an 'inner familiar'_

_Siesta de Tarbes (c) - Managed to apparently gain control over one of Guiche's Valkyries in a duel – beat him without disciplinary consequence. Inexplicable increase in disregard for social custom _

_All three additions seem to be part of a tightly knit group._

_Details current_

_Longueville (c): Green hair, hazel eyes - Relatively recent arrival, two months. Been focusing her attentions on the main tower more frequently. Scurrying off unexpectedly more often. Claim to be a commoner increasingly dubious due to regular presence at library on books about magic._

_Jean Colbert: Brown hair, Blue eyes - Over the last two days, coinciding with Springtime Summoning Ritual, increasingly neurotic and stressed – cast a fireball to intimidate class into silence. Otherwise, normal._

_Kirche (G) Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst: Red hair, brown eyes - Still as flirty as usual, nothing to report._

_Threat assessment: Medium for latter two –despite possessing power, Colbert and Kirche (G) have never expressed opposition to His Majesty King of Gallia's Joseph's actions – however, as mentioned before, they both are powerful fire mages and thus will continue to be monitored at Your Honour's behest. For Longueville (c), Medium low – Longueville (c) seems more of a common thief than anything else, but likewise will continue to be monitored as Your Honour has commanded._

_Details additions_

_Guiche de Gramont: Blond hair, blue eyes - Son of Count de Gramont, real mother unknown (legitimacy also in question). Elemental affinity is earth. Behaviour has become increasingly inexplicable after he challenged Siesta de Tarbes (c) to a duel. Previously, usual behaviour included flirting with members of both sexes though he only dated female ones. Long suspected of dating multiple girls while placing particular attention on Montmorency Margarita La Fère de Montmorency – change in behaviour is new exclusive focus on Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière without flirting with anyone else, pushing away Montmorency. Has started sleeping in Vallière's bedroom. Eats without prayers. Has collaborated with Louise and Siesta in disrupting meals at Alviss on a regular basis. Occasionally addresses Louise as 'mistress' and follows her orders without questions. At last time of recon, did not demonstrate these behaviours, instead pouring hot tea into her mouth. Otherwise, completely normal._

_Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière: Strawberry blonde hair, light brown eyes - Daughter of the Duke de la Vallière and Karin, Duchess de la Vallière. Before change in behaviour and abilities, was notable for being unable to cast any spell properly beyond turning lights on and off and limited levitation (less than a quarter of a mail) before failure explosions occurred. Change in behaviour coincided with Springtime Summoning Ritual. Change in behaviour includes: inexplicable closeness to Guiche de Gramont, while having no previous history with him, frequent interactions with Siesta (c) de Tarbes, again with no known previous history of interaction.__** The most important point of interest is that she is now able to cast spells that otherwise would've resulted in a failure explosion – this change coincided with the summoning of her familiar.**__ Her familiar, as Colbert described it in Familiar Studies, is apparently an "inner familiar", that is, the familiar is an alter ego without a body. There is reason to believe that the inner familiar is responsible for some of her changes in behaviour, including but not limited to; omitting prayers before meals, giving a speech on one of Alviss Hall's tables while in a translucent nightgown about breast size, otherwise, completely normal._

_Siesta (c) de Tarbes: black hair, blue eyes – Resident maid. Old behaviour consisted of avoiding nobles altogether; previously just known by the students as "the laundry maid". Behaviour began to change after beating up Guiche de Gramont in a "duel" (by the time she had the advantage, it was more a torture session) by persuading Valkyrie to attack Guiche – hijacking golems can usually only be done by mages and Siesta (c) is not known to be one. Day after duel proceeded to eat on the table at Alviss Hall, omitting prayers and defying social custom. Day after that, fended off a group of third year students in Alviss Hall annoyed at her disrespect for nobility. In the first occurrence, Guiche de Gramont was involved, with both Gramont and Vallière being involved in the second time. In summary, Siesta (c) de Tarbes has become much more open in her disdain for the nobility, moving from apathy to antipathy. Otherwise, completely normal._

_Collective threat assessment: Medium-low. The trio has been acting in concert when they had no obvious history together: Vallière, Gramont and de Tarbes (c) were never this close, indicating extensive planning and organisation before enrolment and employment. Actions account for little more than pranks and unruly behaviour. No explicit opposition to Halkeginian order or His Majesty Joseph. Main concern is the enhancement of Vallière's magical capabilities and Siesta's (c) ability to manipulate golems and the organisation capability allowing them to hide their connections before acting._

_Personal suggestion: Tighten criteria for individuals to be considered threats – pranksters ended up being added._

_Snowstorm on the Rhenus_

* * *

Tabitha folded the report into the envelope and cast a spell on the block of red wax she had placed on it, melting it and then stamped it with the customised seal Sheffield had provided her with. It was not a surprise that Gallia's coffers were strained when the sheer amount of spying it did on its neighbours was taken into account.

* * *

**The day after…**

As a word, 'irony' was not enough to describe what had happened to Matilda de Sachsen-Gotha; no, 'divine prank' seemed to more fit it with how the whole event had transpired – a blonde maid had made her way into her bedroom while she was overviewing her plans to steal the Staff of Destruction and then took her hooded cloak and then made off, with her only realising that the maid shouldn't have been in her room a few minutes later. Her room had been secured by at least two _very _complex (in other words, difficult for even herself to pick) dead bolts, both of which were enchanted to be resistant to even Square-level lockpicking spells (they had cost at least a 1000 écus of what was left of her inheritance and recent hauls combined!). There was only one set of keys for both of them (and she always carried it on her person) and no one else had them. The locksmith was reputable – it was unlikely he had kept a copy of her specific set of keys and then sold them to someone else, and even then, she was one out of several thousands of his customers. The only possible conclusion: one of the domestic staff could pick dead bolts. That was not a very helpful conclusion as the domestic staff numbered into the dozens – all of them had full access to practically every key to the bedrooms in the castle (strange, considering it was usually only the laundry, cleaning and healing staff that had legitimate excuses to go into other people's rooms without asking.). What was the likelihood of a commoner domestic servant having such great lockpicking skills when they probably had no chance of learning how to pick locks? Near-zero. That wasn't the only problem.

When the maid had walked in, she had accepted the maid's presence as normal; it was as if the maid was meant to be there. Matilda had been convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that she _belonged_ in her room. There was no need for the maid to be silent and stealthy. There wasn't any sense of incongruity until too late – people picking your custom made-locks and sneaking under your nose was one thing; People going into your room and making you feel as if they _belonged_ there was something beyond the power of thieves. All the sudden, Matilda de Sachsen-Gotha came to recognise that the Tristain Academy of Magic was home to more than extremely powerful weapons; it was the domain of a mind-bending horror!

Not since had she learned about Tiffania's plight had such a heavy burden weighed on her mind.

* * *

It was daybreak and through the window, sunlight flooded the servants' quarters. Whoever had designed the living quarters knew how to design them well; the windows and rooms of the quarters were aligned in such a way that the first people to have woken up in the academy were the domestic servants.

As a single speck of sunlight graced Siesta's face, she instantly opened her eyes.

'_Rise and shine.' _The peripheral consciousness of Zero made its presence in her mind known. Why was Zero in Siesta's mind? It was simple.

Today was the day the Liberal Crime Squad (Chapter in Halkeginia) would strike. It would be their first move beyond disrupting students' meals and merely having a little (if unnerving) tea party with them. Thus, it was necessary for Zero to teach Siesta the craft of infiltration that the (now deceased) Liberal One had perfected and taught to Zero (the role of Zeroes had always been to be a repository of skills, crafts and arts so that in case of a Liberal's death, their knowledge would not be lost to eternity). The main problem that they faced was that, even with the most skilled of teachers (and Zero had been teaching for at least three centuries, to liberated child workers, mutants and the like), the craft took more than a day to teach. The conclusion that Zero reached, was that in this world of alchemy and magic, there was a way to circumvent this time restriction; dreams.

Dreams were a strange thing - some dreams felt like they lasted for a day, others felt like they lasted for years. Some could feel like they went on for centuries; with the recognition of this previously overlooked piece of trivia in mind, Zero had made the decision to transfer himself into Siesta's body by kissing Vallière's left hand and then having Siesta kiss it and go to sleep (that, he did after "borrowing" a cloak and hood from one of the school staff – the difficulty of the locks reminded him of the complex **and** ineffective mechanisms CEOs' castles often had). What then occurred was perfect. Experimenting had been worth it. Siesta and Zero had found themselves awake inside of a dream world, inside of the old warehouse that was once One's base, also known as Regent's Motors Inc. It was in this dream world that Zero taught Siesta the craft of infiltration. At first, she had been astonished when Zero (as a doppelgänger of Siesta) had completed such insane feats such as becoming virtually invisible save for a shadow or breaking entire minds with only one word (what he had done to Guiche de Gramont in Vestri court day earlier). By exploiting the distortion of time native to dreams, Zero was able to teach what felt like 1 month worth of lesson in the short time between the "real" day and night.

First, she had to transfer Zero back into Louise de la Vallière. After that, she would strike and no one would know that she struck them.

* * *

Montmorency had run out of tears to cry with. In fact, to even cry over the theft of her boyfriend by Louise de la Vallière seemed futile. Guiche now seemed so helplessly attracted to Vallière that there probably was no way of retrieving him. Had she been a fool to place her love in a boy so notorious for being inconsistent and unfaithful? Maybe she was. Maybe Guiche de Gramont was indeed a narcissist who only dated Montmorency because, as the other girls put it, she was a "mirror reflection of him".

Still, the way Guiche de Gramont had mislead her into thinking that she was special and to throw that faith into her face as if it were a rotten soufflé more than irritated her – it stung and it stung hard. It had made her into a crying mess of a heartthrob that missed several classes (granted, that wasn't enough to warrant expulsion, but it would've still been a stain had she not said that she was "sick"), including Potions, which was her greatest class and the one that not even Vallière could beat. Put simply, she had invested too much into that lady-killing scoundrel. To Hell with his charms! He wasn't even worth a cent of an écu, that passion inciting cur, that distraction and maker of moonlit fantasies! Montmorency sat up from her bed, casting her blanket away and went to that small framed portrait of Guiche on her vanity, holding it, ready to small it on the ground, when she interrupted by a rather audible knocking. She approached the door and opened it.

Before her was Tabitha, fully dressed and looking ready for the day.

"Morning." In a deviation from the usual, Tabitha had no book on her person. She merely held a staff and her usual monotone.

"Is this about Guiche? Because, quite frankly, I've given…" Yep, Montmorency was pissed. It was going to be hard to persuade her to spy on Vallière and Gramont if Tabitha wasn't subtle.

"Vallière and the maid." Even then, Tabitha knew she had to be persuasive.

"If it's about them, then it's probably about Guiche, so…" Of course Montmorency was going to relate them to Guiche! Now it was just going to be a case of bitching and moaning.

"Interested in them exclusively." In hindsight, that was poorly worded.

"You swing **that **way? Hold on, I know nothing…" Should've said 'interested in their behaviour exclusively'.

"No. Behaviour. Familiar summoning. I have a theory." In defence of Montmorency, the way she spoke was a bit clipped and lacking in context.

"What is it?" If it wasn't about Guiche, she guessed she could tolerate it.

"Confidential. Let me in."

* * *

The sight of the maid kissing Vallière's left hand was a bit tasteless to Montmorency.

"I didn't know she was into the same sex."

"More to it than that." Tabitha, unlike Montmorency, was not about to run into conclusions.

* * *

If it weren't for Tabitha, Montmorency would've forgotten that they were supposed to _silently_ be observing Louise de la Vallière (who also happened to have Guiche de Gramont trailing her).

"Quiet, or they'll see us." Tabitha wanted Montmorency to stop trembling in rage at the proximity of Vallière to Guiche.

"_You know what pisses me off Guiche?"_

"What, Mistress Zero?"

"_When I can't set annoying, rustling bushes on fire because Vallière has a problem with potentially killing people."_

"Understood, Mistress Zero."

As Guiche and Louise de la Vallière (or at least what appeared to be her) moved off, Tabitha pulled Montmorency and herself out of the bush. Tabitha found that her suspicions were not unfounded.

"Did you notice it?"

"What?"

"How Louise referred to herself as a separate entity?"

"Come to think of it, yes."

* * *

"It's the 'inner familiar' Mr Colbert talked about."

Montmorency was absolute fascinated with the idea that Louise de la Vallière was under the possession of some malevolent force (that happened to be an 'inner familiar' – Tabitha needed to recap to Montmorency the nature of an alter ego because of the scant amount of attention given to it in class, which honestly did not make sense; if such a thing happened so rarely and was the object of fascination for mages since time immemorial, how come did the school not cover it in any more detail?). Regardless, the two established the possibility that the Louise that they were seeing – much less aggressive (yet far more intimidating, literally causing Malicorne, not only to run away in fear this time, but to _piss his pants _at sheer eye contact), was in fact, not Louise de la Vallière herself, but rather, her alter ego.

Next to Tabitha (currently devouring several drumsticks of chicken) Montmorency observed 'Louise' and Guiche (softening her opinion of him, Montmorency did acknowledge that he was under the presence of some horrible cosmic horror) at the third-graders' table eating their meal. Again, they omitted praying like they did last time and again, their presence was marked by a buffer of empty seats. It was like looking at lions in a menagerie; the fearsome nature of the two was dissonantly marked by a field of serenity and silence around them. Not even the rowdiest of third-graders dared to interrupt them. There was a whole row of silence. It was said the familiar reflected the summoner – if her alter ego could inflict such fear and obedience in those around her, what was the real Louise, her potential fully realised, like?

That question, indeed, riddled Montmorency Margarita La Fère de Montmorency, as Louise de la Vallière (or whatever bore the form of her) stood up and Guiche de Gramont followed. The whole of the third graders' table seemed to become silent for them, as they made their way to the staircase leading to the dormitories.

Montmorency was curious as to what horrible form of mind-manipulating process 'Louise' had inflicted on her Guiche. Looking at Guiche's behaviour, there was no definite conclusion Montmorency could reach; at times he acted like a lover; at times a servant and according to Tabitha, he once forced a cup of hot tea down her throat – not exactly the behaviour of a lover nor a servant. She would, however, find out and make sure Vallière could never control Guiche that way again. At least, she convinced herself she would ensure that…

* * *

Zero and Guiche were making their way back to Louise's dormitory. In all honesty, possessing her body was not the ideal way to pass the day.

'Give me back my body!' The squeaky, high voice of Louise de la Vallière continued to drill into Zero's consciousness as he and Guiche continued to make their way to her room. The reason he was controlling Louise de la Vallière's body instead of letting her have it was not out of spite nor concern at her inability to control a broken Guiche de Gramont – rather, it was for operational convenience.

'_Not until the afternoon._' It was a little surprise to show her that the Liberal Crime Squad was indeed, serious business and to dispel all possibility (granted, it was rather low) that all the gore and murder she had witnessed when Zero had indoctrinated her was some tasteless joke. It was a surprise of such an important nature, that even in the process of thinking about it, Zero did not allow any speck of the thought to be sensed by Vallière.

'Why?'

'_I've got a surprise for you.'_

'You've been saying that since the morning. At least tell me what it is!'

'_No.' _For a person who wanted an annoying little girlfriend, Vallière's constant whinging and complaining would've been the ultimate fantasy. For an individual such as Zero – it was just plain annoying.

'_I'm not going to keep possessing your body for the rest of the day. I'll let you use it during class.'_

To Vallière, the audacity of Zero was rather high; he was suggesting that he was giving her permission to use her own body, when in fact, she owned it!

Zero's hope that his promise would quickly shut up Louise de la Vallière's constant whining, moaning and groaning was thus thwarted. The idea of finding Guiche's familiar and then indoctrinating her in order to forgo the whole process of Guiche acting as an intermediary suddenly went into his mind. Why didn't think of that before? It would've far more tolerable to tell Vallière to go and make a sandwich whenever she droned on or was about to mess up than possess her body just to ensure that she didn't make Guiche do something stupid or ruin a whole action. He wouldn't have to bear with this bitching and moaning at the back of his (his gender had become his original sex, sad as it was, for the sake of grammatical convenience) head. Vallière was a mental cacophony!

* * *

"Do you know why Wind is the best of the four elements?" Zero didn't know and neither did he care, only cracking a laugh in response to the ludicrous, contextually manipulable query. _'Because I can chuck a fart and everyone will notice?'_ Oh well. It was Vallière's turn to learn how annoying a voice in your mind could be.

"Well? Any of you?" Zero could understand why Mr Kaita was considered a very low-tier teacher – he was alienating and detached beyond any reasonable pretence of professionalism. The cold, arrogant manner was not exactly the ideal pedagogical method. Strut about and glorify your subject and no-one will like you – refuse to stop strutting about and you will teach nothing – that was what the university district at home was like. As much a den of intellectualism and opposition it was to the Confederacy, the hive of nerds were never demonstrably sincere nor whole-hearted in their defiance against the President; they could teach you the initial skills, but you would have to learn them yourself through direct action. In fact, the university had become obsolete a long time ago when Zero succeeded his predecessor – what they taught there was basic knowledge to any liberal enlisted in the cause. 'How to pick a lock with locksmith equipment' was basically the equivalent to 'how to breathe and live' to any member of the Liberal Crime Squad, New York Chapter or otherwise. The average youngling knew how to burglarise a downtown apartment for the Third Zero's sake!

"Fine, fine, you stupid lot of morons! Put simply, in the subject you are studying 2nd Year Potions, a fair amount of skill in Wind is necessary for making a decent brew." Kaita wasn't very subtle in his mockery of the students, now was he?

'Personally, I think Mr Kaita is full of shit.' Montmorency passed the note to Tabitha, who promptly nodded in acknowledgement.

"Today, we're going to do something exciting. We're going to brew vomiting potions." A bewildered chattering began to fill the room.

"I can understand while you dopes are all so curious as to what a vomiting potion is. It's what it says on the tin. You're all going to make vomiting potions today and you're all going to drink them so I can see how effective they are. Anyone with any objections can go and scrub the dungeons." Yup, Kaita was an asshole. Now Zero knew why all the students were gasping with exasperation. Not to worry. He had a surprise for all of them to brighten up the day.

* * *

"Hey, Thomas, what do you think is in the bags that Mott so desperately wants to hide?" Lucas knew the risks of being in the service of a noble of questionable repute. It weighed heavily on his shoulders, his left one specifically. It didn't stop him from wanting, at the very least, knowledge of what made their occupation so risky.

"I don't know, tax records? Human trafficking receipts? Documentation showing ties with sinister organisations with leaders that like to say "just as planned"?" Thomas really didn't care. He had a family to feed.

"Wouldn't that be, **illegal**?" Looking back, the only reason he had chosen to be in Count Mott's employment was the hefty sum that was the weekly pay.

"Yeah, but we're just transferring the evidence around and stashing them in difficult-to-find places, it's not like we've actually committed the crimes or anything now, did we?" Newbies that had their undergarments tied in the morality of the job were the ones most difficult to manage. That was where teaching then ethics and professionalism came in.

"Even then, I don't like the thought of being considered complicit in whatever shady activities Mott is involved in in history books." Lucas was quite concerned with that possibility. Nobody wanted to be known as the embodiment of pure evil simply because they were trying to feed their parents.

"If we both do our jobs professionally, that will never happen." Thomas placed the handbags he was holding and trunk he was hefting onto the floor and withdrew from his pockets a scroll necessary to open the thrice sealed door behind the false wall. Commoners, though not magical, were still susceptible to magic and by reading what was on the scroll, Thomas would be able to open the three locks with the residual magic that would be on him. Thank goodness he had explained to Lucas that the opening to the archives were located in the girls' bathroom. He didn't need the mewlings of a green-thumb disrupting his focus.

Thomas was just about to find the brick that would open the secret passage to the sealed door, when Lucas, once again, started complaining.

"Thomas!"

"Not now, Lucas, I'm trying to open the passageway!"

"Seriously Thomas!"

Thomas turned around, ready to tell Lucas to shut the Hell up, when he saw that the trunk was floating, a mesmerised Lucas pointing at it.

They tried to retrieve the trunk, but alas, they did not have the acuity to see the barely visible, slightly translucent form of Siesta de Tarbes in a hood and cloak, carrying away years' worth of criminal evidence, dragging the equally translucent and barely visible trunk along with her.

* * *

Kaita examined the trays of vomit that were on the tables of the Wind Tower's classroom. Repugnant, but necessary. It was necessary in order to access the results of non-container suspended potion-making. Some called it 'ludicrous' (in fact, more than half of the class had failed), but Kaita viewed it as the finest way to judge a young mage's ability in manipulating wind – if you could levitate and cool a horrible-smelling brew above a brazier with practically nothing else but your concentration, you were a good wind mage. If you couldn't, it could be said that he didn't care if you slept with a random commoner in the slums of Tristania and caught a venereal disease for an écu for two. It was that simple.

* * *

Malicorne had just barely managed to concoct Vomiting Draught without the aid of instruments. 'Twas a difficult task, but he persevered. The efficacy of his potion on the other hand…

"What is this _shit _you call Vomiting Draught, Malicorne de Grandplé?" If you didn't know by now that Kaita was a son of a bitch, your classmates would've looked at you as being mental.

"What's your affinity, boy?" Kaita needed to know how this incompetent managed to even make a potion with the low quality it reflected.

"What?"

"'What' ain't no affinity I've ever heard of! Do they mix cauldronless potions with 'What'?" It was strange to have your suspicion that you were fictional triggered on a fine day like this. Regardless, Zero continued to hover around in Vallière's consciousness, never trying to possess her for wariness of the notice of others.

"W-what?"

"SAY 'WHAT' AGAIN, I DARE YOU, I DOUBLE DARE YOU SAY 'WHAT' ONE MORE TIME!" At this, Malicorne swallowed his fear and spat out:

"I cast Wind, sir!"

"Then what is this excuse of Vomiting Draught you have here? I thought you ate like a pig!" Kaita pointed his wand at the small blob of vomit that was the result of Malicorne's vomiting.

"I vomited earlier, sir!" Yes he did, oh he did. That and he wet his pants. Kaita stared at Malicorne with doubt for a second or to.

"I'm in a good mood now. You've just passed." Even assholes had their good points apparently.

* * *

"Decent." Tabitha's tray bore almost three dishes' worth of half-digested roasted chicken.

'Who the bloody Hell does he think he is to imitate my way of speaking?' Was the thought that passed through Tabitha's mind. Evidently, the glare that she gave in reaction to Mr Kaita's clipped sentence did not go unnoticed.

"What? I'm just saying, your potion is decent. You've passed with flying colours!"

To shut the obnoxious, lanky prick up, Tabitha simply replied with "…Thank you, sir."

* * *

"That looks awful. I mean that in a good way." The spew of bread and beef on Montmorency's tray explained his reaction.

* * *

"Absolutely disgusting. Repulsive beyond measure. You're brilliant Vallière! You really are the daughter of Karin the Heavy Wind!" Vallière was enjoying the series of morale boosts that success due to Zero's presence had brought to her, even if he was a mass-murdering insurrectionist. Just as Vallière was about to revel in yet another stroke of her ego however, the door behind Mr Kaita was suddenly slammed open. Standing in the doorway was Old Osmond, looking considerably older (old enough to put corpses to shame) than he usually did.

"What is it, Mr Osmond?" Kaita was not sounding like the smug snake he was to the students. That was primarily due to the fact that a distressed Osmond also meant an angry Osmond – it never was a good idea to piss off panicky square-level mages.

"Royal documents in transit to our school's…" Nope. Osmond couldn't reveal the existence of _that _place behind the girls' toilets. Feigning a cough, he reworded it. "Sensitive royal documents in transit to our school's safe have been stolen!" (Technically 'schools safe could've referred to any safe, but 'the safe' usually referred to Osmond's four-element-and-key lock).

Louise de la Vallière pondered: Was this the surprise Zero had been talking about?

Instantly, an affirmation came from Zero.

* * *

An assembly had been called. Apparently, the documents were of such importance so as to warrant a lecture and an address from the principal.

Even though Zero had told (and shown) Vallière firsthand the insanity of the Liberal Crime Squad and the Cause for which it served, experiencing it firsthand was somewhat surreal. Anyone who ever caused a panic knew that satisfying emotion. If it weren't for the fact that Zero was more a strategist who happened to be brilliant at planning raids and information operations, rather than an active participant in any of them, he would've remembered easily the moment when he caused a racket that was far more than a couple of cheap pranks that merely offended people. Whenever the Ministry of Love pissed their pants, you created comedy that easily rivalled a Helvetican comedy skit or a Mexican joke about refugees flooding in from the north of the Rio Grande.

Zero wondered on how Siesta's operation proceeded.

* * *

With a final plant on the ground, Siesta had finally finished stashing whatever she had stolen into one of the old molehills of Austri Plaza. It was time for her to get back to work, before her absence was noted.

* * *

Profile #01b

Name: Siesta de Tarbes (autonomous)

Profession: Maid, Political Activist

Age: 17, born 6222 Halkeginian.

Gender/Sex: Female

Hair and eye colour: Black and cobalt blue.

Blood Type: O

Bust: B

Earth Juice: 0 (Civilian)

Halkeginian Juice: 100 (Rebel)

Heart: 11

Wisdom: 2

Intelligence: 12

Health: 15

Agility: 15

Strength: 11

Charisma: 12

Base Magic: 6 (High Line-level)

Siesta de Tarbes without Zero's presence. Known for the occasional sarcastic joke due to her rather bad financial circumstances. Knows how to cook, clean and read fairly well. Has recently learnt how to become one with the shadows and to be out of place without disturbing anyone. Can pick the lock of a cheap chest. Her insults are particularly scathing and degrading, in part due to learning the art of 'psychology' from Zero.

* * *

Read, **follow _(NOT JUST FAVOURITE)_** and review. **_It keeps me going._** Plus, I double chapter word length every chapter.


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